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THE 


HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


3 ^' 

KATE W.'HAMILTON, 

n 7 

Author op “Tangles and Corners,” “Wood, Hay and 
Stubble,” “Unity Dodge,” etc. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION 
AND SABBATH-SCHOOL WORK, 

No. 1334 CHESTNUT STREET. 



COPYRIGHT, 1890, BY 

THE TRUSTEES OF THE 

PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION 
AND SABBATH-SCHOOL WORK. 


ALL BIGHTS RESERVED. 




-d 0 ' o 


Westcott & Thomson, 
Stereotypers and Electrotypers , Philada, 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

A Door Outward 7 

CHAPTER II. 

“ Over this Jordan ” 28 

CHAPTER III. 

That Queer Old Woman . . . 48 

CHAPTER IV. 

Kitty 68 

CHAPTER V. 

Barbara’s Outlook 83 

CHAPTER VI. 

Home 97 

3 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VII. 

PAGE 

Fundamentals HI 

CHAPTER VIII. 

A New Experience * * 133 

CHAPTER IX. 

“ Whose Image and Superscription is This?” . . . 146 

CHAPTER X. 

Unto Cjssar — Unto God 173 

CHAPTER XL 

A Boarder 188 

CHAPTER XII. 

What Fell with the Walls 204 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A New Departure 223 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Soul of It 237 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Touch of the Angel 254 


CONTENTS. 


5 


CHAPTER XVI. 

PAGE 

A Winter Evening 270 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Answered 284 






THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


CHAPTER I. 

A DOOR OUTWARD. 

TN a far-off corner of the wide grounds, quite 
away from the house, an old apple tree stretched 
its untrimmed branches far and wide — outward over 
the rough stone wall toward the winding country- 
road ; inward over the deep grass, where the shift- 
ing shadows of its leaves wove strange patterns. 
One low, drooping limb, gnarled and twisted, 
formed a natural seat, and comfortably ensconced 
there was a young girl with sun-bonnet pushed 
back from her brown face and with a book in her 
hand. In the branches over her head a robin twit- 
tered his defiance of her presence. Through the 
lush grass at her feet a rabbit darted, and maraud- 
ing bees, hurrying from the roadside daisies to the 
nodding tiger-lilies within the wall, buzzed loudly 
their admiration of their own industry. But the 


8 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


young reader noticed none of them. She only 
stirred a little impatiently and turned a leaf with 
quicker motion when a call sounded from the 
house : 

“ Pete !” 

Still, the book did not seem quite to satisfy its 
reader, for at last she looked up from it in a half- 
discontented, half-puzzled way : 

“ There is no end to it ! Everything turns on 
something else ; it’s all hinges. Whenever you 
come to a wall that shuts off everything, there’s 
sure to be a door through somewhere. I wonder 
if everything we do is just a hinge for something 
else, and if all the happenings are only doors ? I 
should think — •” 

“ Pete ! Pete!” 

A second call, quick and imperative, aroused the 
girl. 

“ Maybe they do want something this time,” she 
said ; and, tossing her book on the grass, she lightly 
followed it. The bonnet, loosened from her neck, 
dropped beside her, and, throwing it carelessly over 
her arm instead of on her head — which, in truth, 
generally scorned a bonnet — she made her way 
across the sward to the path. A graveled walk 
of ambitious width it once had been, running 


A DOOR OUTWARD. 


9 


from an arched gateway to the great house, but 
the arched entrance had long since vanished, and 
the walk, worn into ruts and crevices by sun and 
rain and by the hurrying feet of many years, was 
intersected by patches of grass and sadly encroached 
upon by the bunches of poppies and sweet-williams 
which should have formed its border. 

The house, large and lofty, but weather-stained 
and unpainted and fronted by a wide platform — 
the beginning of a piazza that had never been fin- 
ished — was in keeping with the grounds. The dou- 
ble doors leading into a spacious hall were standing 
open, and as the girl neared the steps a frightened 
face suddenly flashed out upon her, aud its owner, 
an old colored woman, called tremblingly as she 
hurried past, 

“ Oh, Miss Pete, we couldn’t find ye ! Be quick, 
chile ; dar’s somefin’ awful happened.” 

“ Something happened ? Where ?” The girl 
was in the hall in an instant, terrified and bewil- 
dered. “ What do you mean, Deb ? What is it?” 

The woman had hastened up the stairs without 
waiting for reply or explanation, and Pete could 
only follow. On the landing a boy met her, and 
she caught his arm as he was rushing past : 

“ Dick, what is the matter ?” 


10 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


<( Don’t stop me ; I must get the doctor/’ he 
began ; but as he saw Pete’s white face he paused 
for an instant. u Don’t look like that, Pete. She 
fell — grandma did ; fainted, or something. Don’t 
be so frightened ; some people faint often, you 
know. It’s only queer for grandma. She’ll be 
better soon. The doctor’ll know what to do, 
and I’ll have him here right away.” The boy 
was gone with the last words, and, clearing the 
piazza with a bound, ran down the walk. 

The girl clasped the balustrade to steady her 
trembling limbs, but the heavy hand that had 
seemed clutching her heart was loosened. Any- 
thing like illness was a relief, compared with the 
half-formed visions of terrible accidents that had 
flashed lightning-like through her brain. A swift 
thought reminded her, too, that it was not so strange 
an occurrence as Dick imagined. Grandma had com- 
plained of faintness several times lately, and an un- 
comfortable feeling in her head. This must have 
been a little worse than usual, that was all, and it 
had frightened poor old Deb. So reassuring her- 
self, Pete was able to enter the room, to lift the un- 
conscious head, to arrange pillows and bring restor- 
atives. But, with all her faith in Dick’s diagnosis 
and her own reasoning, it was dreadful to see the 


A DOOR OUTWARD. 


11 


motionless form and the livid face, and to witness 
her grandfather’s anguish as he chafed the cold 
hands. She was so unused to illness, so ignorant 
of what should be done, that she was thankful 
when neighbors came in and she could yield her 
place to those who were more experienced. 

It seemed long, as such time always does, the 
waiting for medical aid, yet in reality it was but a 
few minutes. Dick had been so fortunate as to 
meet the physician a short distance up the road, 
and his carriage stopped at the gate as Pete went 
down to the hall again. She knew him by repu- 
tation and by sight, as so important a member of 
the community was sure to be known even to those 
whose homes had not needed his services. So, 
also, she knew that the young lady who came 
with him was his sister and only a visitor in the 
village. They were out riding when Dick sum- 
moned him, the doctor briefly explained, and his 
sister would wait for him. 

The young lady’s quick eye read the slight em- 
barrassment her presence caused — that her young 
hostess did not know exactly the proper disposi- 
tion to make of her — and her low even voice 
and quiet manner promptly settled the matter : 

“ Only let me sit here by this window, please, 


12 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


Miss Wilder — it is so much more comfortable than 
waiting in the carriage — and do not feel that you 
need pay me any attention.” 

Easy, graceful speech was not Pete’s either by 
nature or by acquirement. She gravely nodded, 
allowed the lady to seat herself and silently led 
the doctor up stairs. There the group at the 
bed made way for him, and the girl anxiously 
lingered near the door to catch the words which 
should assure her that the attack was but a slight 
one and would soon be over. But the physician 
expressed no opinion, and his low- voiced questions 
and directions told her nothing. Still, his pres- 
ence gave her confidence, though she shrank from 
the white, drawn face on the pillow and from the 
sound of the slow, oppressed respiration. 

One of the women noticed the young girl and 
kindly insisted on her going away : 

" You can’t be of any use here ; there’s plenty 
to do everything there is to be done, and not much 
for anybody to do now, in fact, but to wait. And 
it only troubles you to see her so. You’d better 
go down stairs a while, and I’ll call you if you’re 
wanted.” 

Pete mechanically obeyed, and went back to the 
room where the stranger sat. The old clock in the 


A DOOR OUTWARD. 


13 


corner struck the hour, and she looked up at it in 
amazement. Could it be only so short a time since 
she had gone happily out of the house, book in 
hand, for her favorite nook? Everything had 
been so peacefully commonplace then, and her 
grandmother’s voice — that brisk, cheery voice that 
ordered everything about the place — had called 
after her with its familiar injunction : “ Do wear 
your bonnet, daughter ! You’ll be as brown as 
an Indian soon.” How could so much have hap- 
pened since? It was like a dream, this strange 
presence here, those others in the upper room 
and the unwonted stir about the house, while 
away across the lawn, its branches visible from 
the window, waved and nodded the old tree 
where she had lingered in such care-free, happy 
leisure only a little half hour ago. 

With an uncomfortable feeling that utter silence 
might be construed into discourtesy, Pete tried to 
talk to the. young lady. The effort would not 
have been a remarkable success at the best of 
times, so far as Pete was concerned, for the fluff 
of yellow hair, the perfectly gloved hands and 
the sweep of the silken skirt, with its marvelous 
loopings and drapery, marked one of those whom 
Pete and her brother Dick were wont to speak of 


14 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


scornfully as “ fancy articles ” and “ none of our 
sort.” As for the stranger, she replied and ques- 
tioned politely and pleasantly, but inwardly was 
only moved to a wonder which found expression 
the moment she was out of hearing : 

“ How odd of that girl to come down stairs and 
actually try to entertain me while her grandmother 
is so ill l” 

It was a welcome release to both when the doc- 
tor entered. 

“She is better?” said Pete, in mingled affirma- 
tion and inquiry. 

“No; I can hardly say that — yet.” The doc- 
tor spoke slowly and looked at Pete as if uncer- 
tain how much it would be well to tell her. “ It 
is paralysis.” 

The physician’s sister looked up with a quick 
comprehending glance, but the words conveyed 
no intelligence to Pete. 

“ I have done all that can be done for her. I 
will come again in the morning if — if there should 
be any need.” He turned abruptly away then, as 
if to avoid saying more, and his sister barred any 
further question by her pleasantly murmured thanks 
and good-bye. As they reached the walk she 
glanced back at the house, and, forgetful of the 


A DOOR OUTWARD. 


15 


open window, her comment went floating into the 
room : 

“ What a queer place, inside and out ! It looks 
like a mass of unfinished beginnings that had never 
come to anything.” 

Dick, with boyish dislike of manifesting any 
emotion before strangers, or even of meeting them, 
had kept out of sight, but the moment they were 
gone he confronted Pete anxiously: 

“ Well, what did he say?” 

“ Not much ; he hurried away so,” answered 
Pete, scarcely satisfied. “But he thought she 
would be better soon. At least, that is what he 
must have meant, for he spoke as if there would 
be no need of his coming again.” 

Dick’s freckled, honest face brightened, and he 
softly whistled a note of relief : 

“ That’s good ! Fact is, Pete, I was consider- 
ably scared, though I wouldn’t own it even to 
myself. I am glad, I tell you.” 

So was Pete. Her meagre information seemed 
to grow fuller with the weight of Dick’s interpre- 
tation added to her own ; and when the boy went 
cheerily out to bring in the wood and water for 
the evening, Pete looked out at the last slant sun- 
beams resting on the lilies and the poppies, and 


16 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


felt that the world was once more almost her own 
comfortable every-day world : it soon would be ; 
and, with a new sympathy born of the afternoon’s 
experience, she pitied people to whom dreadful 
things did happen — really happen. Then, stand- 
ing there, she suddenly remembered those last 
words of her visitor — words not intended foy 
her hearing — and wondered what she had meant 
by them. 

“‘A mass of unfinished beginnings that had 
never come to anything,’ ” Pete repeated, looking 
around the large room. 

The fireplace below the marble mantel was filled 
in by a board covered with cheap paper ; the faded 
and dingy Brussels carpet, from which had been 
removed some pieces that had utterly outlived their 
usefulness, was supplemented by breadths of rag 
carpeting; a grand piano elaborately inlaid with 
pearl originally, and overlaid with dents and 
scratches since, stood in a corner: it was out of 
date, out of tune and covered with a plaid shawl 
which was also considerably past its first glory. 
All these details were familiar enough, but they 
had never impressed Pete as they did now. 

“ That’s what it does look like — what it is, I 
suppose — a mass of beginnings : we haven’t minded 


A DOOR OUTWARD. 


17 


much because we have always been waiting for the 
finishing to come, but it has been a good while — 
almost all my life,” she said, slowly. 

The life numbered seventeen years now. Pete 
had never thought of herself as a young lady, but 
it occurred to her that the young lady who had just 
gone away could not be more than three or four 
years older than herself. 

“So I am almost old enough to be one, but I 
am only a 1 mass of beginnings/ like the house,” 
she concluded, with a glance at the old mirror in 
tarnished gilt frame above the mantel. The dark 
hair smoothly brushed back from her face and 
braided in one long stiff plait down her back, 
with the sole idea of getting it out of the way as 
completely and expeditiously as possible, the plain 
calico dress, the hands browned by exposure to all 
weather and bearing numerous scratches from rose- 
bushes and berry-vines, presented a marked con- 
trast to the specimen of young ladyhood she had 
been considering; and for the first time in her life 
Pete was conscious of a lurking doubt whether the 
points of difference were so entirely in her own 
favor as she and Dick had always imagined. It 
was only a flitting thought; the next one was a 
wonder why she had not been summoned up stairs. 

2 


18 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


u Mrs. Leib promised to call me when I was 
wanted. I’m sure grandma will want me as soon 
as she is well enough to ask for me, and I think 
that ought to be by this time. I may not know 
much about sickness, but she will want me near 
her,” she said, with the comforting conviction 
that, whatever her deficiencies as a nurse or a young 
lady, there was one place where she was first. 

But the kindly eyes that had always brightened 
at Pete’s coming did not notice the girl as she en- 
tered. They were still half closed and the strange 
heavy breathing was unchanged. Through an 
open door Pete saw her grandfather sitting in 
an adjoining apartment, his gray head bowed 
upon his hands. The hushed room, the strong 
odor of camphor, the low voices of the two neigh- 
bors, who still lingered, all oppressed Pete, and, 
though she did not quite know why, she shrank 
from asking any questions. She quietly passed 
to a window and sat down there alone. 

The sun slowly vanished beyond the line of dis- 
tant hills and the long twilight faded. Deb went 
down stairs and looked after the evening work. A 
few people came to the door, made inquiries and 
went away again, and the summer night settled 
down. Pete occasionally stole to the bedside and 


A DOOR OUTWARD. 


19 


watched for a few minutes for some sign of return- 
ing consciousness, only to go away troubled and 
perplexed by the still form and the breathing that 
grew more slow and difficult. It was hard to 
realize that it could be her grandmother lying 
there to be taken care of instead of watching over 
and caring for others. Her cheerful, motherly 
presence had always been the life of the house. 
Her hopeful, happy temperament had made the 
place and the circumstances and mode of life con- 
nected with it appear not as failure and hardship, 
but only as a waiting for the something better that 
was just about to come. 

The great house was merely one of many grand 
beginnings, for its builder, Richard Wilder, was 
one who saw most things, especially his own proj- 
ects and possibilities, in magnificent proportions. 
Versatile, ambitious and energetic, he abounded in 
wonderful schemes and mighty enterprises, and all 
his days had been just on the verge of achieving a 
fortune. A competence, indeed, had been more 
than once within his grasp, and had been risked 
and lost in the effort to capture some greater prize 
that lay beyond. Early in life he had married a 
prospective heiress — the inheritance never became 
anything more than prospective — and when she 


20 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


died, leaving him an infant daughter, he confided 
the little one to the care of his father and his 
mother and plunged more deeply than ever into 
his various business ventures. Railroad-building, 
land-offices, silver-mining companies, or whatever it 
might be, each new speculation was sure to prove the 
most profitable in which he had engaged, and with 
firm faith in his own plans, and with a fluent tongue 
to persuade others to like faith, he was constantly 
pushing forward some great undertaking. He re- 
married soon, but the father and the mother, living 
quietly in a little country home in New England, 
had for years seldom seen the son who was too busy 
for visiting, and they never saw his second wife. 
Two or three years later he had discovered in the 
vicinity of this village of Western Pennsylvania 
some peculiarities of soil and water which suggested 
to him the probable presence of petroleum. Elated 
with the idea, he secured the services of one sup- 
posed to be an expert in such matters, and privately 
instituted a series of experiments that convinced 
him of the correctness of his theories. Then, pur- 
chasing the tract of land, he openly avowed his 
discovery and set about reaping his golden harvest. 
The little village rejoiced in a sudden breeze — or, 
rather, whirlwind — of prosperity. The unpretend- 


A DOOR OUTWARD. 


21 


ing “ Traveler’s Home/’ near the railway, blos- 
somed out in wide wooden wings and yards of 
veranda and became the “ Metropolitan Hotel.” 
Stores and offices took on city airs of paint and 
plate-glass, and a forest of derricks sprung up in 
the suburbs. Mr. Wilder was offered handsome 
sums for his purchase, or for even a part of it, but 
he refused to sell. He held at last the solid founda- 
tion of a fortune that would satisfy him, and he 
meant to keep it in his own possession, he said ; he 
had found a business that would do to settle down 
upon. It was with this triumphant feeling that he 
and his wife gave to their baby-daughter the some- 
what fanciful name of Petra. 

While the sinking of the wells and the putting 
up of requisite buildings progressed Mr. Wilder 
purchased another piece of ground, on the opposite 
side of the village, and began the erection of a 
house that might serve as a country residence, but 
the plans for its elaborate finishing and for laying 
out and beautifying the grounds were never carried 
into effect. The flow of oil from the first well 
steadily diminished, and boring deeper, digging 
other wells, and all the costly experiments born of 
desperation that followed, did not increase the yield, 
but gradually revealed the fact that the promise 


22 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


had been delusive : it was all a failure. Whether 
the disappointment and the anxiety bore too heavily 
upon a proud and ambitious spirit and a physical 
frame naturally fragile, or from some other cause, 
Mrs. Wilder speedily drooped into a listless, un- 
happy invalid, and when her little son was born 
slipped out of a world that had not satisfied her. 

With the failure of the petroleum enterprise the 
village dropped back into more than its former 
obscurity, and Mr. Wilder’s property there was as 
valueless as a ship built too far inland ever to reach 
the ocean. It was all that was left him, however; 
he had put into the venture all that he was worth. 
He could not even dispose of the land for the 
modest sum he had originally paid for it, and there 
was little prospect of any growth in the village 
that would ever make the ground more valuable. 
The mounds of earth, the useless buildings and the 
great derricks standing like giant skeletons to black- 
en in sun and wind were abandoned, but the house 
he had built was tenable. He could neither sell it 
nor complete it, but he could use it. His parents 
were readily prevailed upon to come there with the 
little Kitty and take charge of the two younger 
children also, and then he gladly availed himself 
of a commission that would take him to Europe. 


A DOOR OUTWARD. 


23 


He had remained abroad ever since, now here, now 
there, always engaged in some great scheme that 
was to work wonderful results and bring wealth 
to those at home. When the village people heard, 
as they rarely did, of any of these great expecta- 
tions, they laughed incredulously over the prospect 
of “ Dick Wilder’s ship coming in again,” but the 
father and the mother never lost faith in “son 
Richard” and his abilities. They were simple, 
kindly people, content with their quiet life and de- 
voted to the children, whom, after the manner of 
grandparents, they petted and indulged to the ex- 
tent of their power. 

The large garden and one or two cows furnished 
a considerable part of the family income, which 
was supplemented by occasional remittances from 
abroad. When these last were tolerably liberal, 
they were freely expended in the pleasant faith that 
the expected era of plenty was at hand ; when, as 
oftener happened, they were scant and long delayed, 
the mother was only full of pity for Richard, who 
“ must be hard pressed just now, poor fellow !” and 
she was cheerily certain that “ for themselves they 
could manage to get along for a while.” Getting 
along for a while was all that was ever planned for. 

That house — “ The Barracks ” the neighbors had 


24 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


long ago christened it — had been Petra’s home since 
she could remember. Her name, like the other 
ambitious plannings about the place, had been cut 
short, and “Pete” was all that common use had 
left of it. It suited her well enough. So, too, her 
unfettered, careless life suited her. She had not 
thought of it as lacking advantages. Much which 
that term commonly signifies she and Dick had 
proudly scoffed at as disadvantages of the most 
absurd sort, and they wondered that Kitty could 
be so silly as to want to go away to the city to live. 
A relative of Kitty, a cousin of her mother, had 
invited the girl to spend two or three years with 
her, urging the benefit of superior schools and re- 
fined society, and the grandparents, sore-hearted at 
the parting, but unselfish, had accepted the offer. 
Pete openly rejoiced that she had no relatives to 
extend similar privileges to her. Dick declared 
that a girl who could climb into a cherry tree, jump 
over a ditch and go into a berry-pasture without 
screaming about snakes was worth “ forty frizzled 
and ruffled girls who knew how to thump on a 
piano and Pete had very heartily accepted Dick’s 
opinion and his praise. 

But to-night, as Pete sat by the open window, 
alert to catch every whisper in the room, but with 


A DOOR OUTWARD. 


25 


nothing to busy her except her own thoughts, she 
found herself wondering whether things could al- 
ways go on in this old fashion and what sort of a 
life it would make if they did. Her afternoon’s 
reading, the strange presence of illness in the 
house, the chance remark of the doctor’s sister, 
combined to awaken questions and reflections that 
were new. She remembered that the promised 
fortune which was to round all these beginnings 
into completeness was really no nearer now than 
it had been when she was a little child. Indeed, 
it seemed farther away if she could judge by the 
sums from abroad, which had grown smaller and 
less frequent, until of late there had been a long 
silence over which her grandparents marveled and 
worried. For herself, she had not thought much 
about it; she had known no lack of care or of 
love, and her absent father was little more than 
a name to her. But she began to realize, as she 
considered the matter, that his health and success 
must mean a great deal to her grandfather, who 
was now growing old; she had not thought how 
old until she saw the bowed gray head to-day. 

Two or three hours passed away without any 
apparent change in the sufferer. A shaded lamp 
had been brought into the sick-room, and the 


26 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


watchers softly arranged chairs and table in the posi- 
tion most convenient for the night. Pete was silent- 
ly wondering whether they intended to stay, when 
Mrs. Leib came to her and said with an odd gen- 
tleness in her usually crisp, sharp tones, 

“ Hadn’t you better go and lie down, Sis? 
Like as not there will not be any change till 
mornin,’ and we can call you right away if there 
is. You’ll be all tired out settin’ here.” 

“ Oh, I couldn’t sleep ; I’d rather be here,” the 
girl urged ; and the neighbor went away and left 
her with her head leaning against the window-sill, 
her eyes watching the starry sky. 

Despite the protest of Pete, she must have 
dropped into a light slumber, for she had lost 
consciousness of her surroundings and her thoughts 
were confusedly trying to settle some tangle of hap- 
penings and hinges when she was aroused by a sob- 
bing voice at her side. 

“ Oh, Miss Pete, it am cornin’ now,” whispered 
Deb. “ It’ll be all ober ’fore de daylight.” 

“ What ? Who is coming ?” questioned Pete, 
bewildered. 

“Oh, chile, don’ ye know there is any such 
ting as def in dis worl’ ?” 

Death ! The girl started to her feet. Her 


A DOOR OUTWARD. 


27 


grandfather was kneeling by the bedside; in the 
doorway stood Dick with white, frightened face, 
and even as Pete reached the foot of the couch 
Mrs. Leib said huskily, 

“It’s all over!” 

A door had suddenly unclosed in Petra’s life — 
a door that opened outward into eternity. 


CHAPTER II. 

“OVER THIS JORDAN.” 

mHERE had come the strange days of bewilder- 
ment, the pitiful effort to stagger to the feet 
again which must follow such a crushing sudden 
blow, the slow awakening of stunned heart and 
brain to the keen anguish of realization, the dazed 
surprise of finding that the world must still go on 
after it has seemed to end, the intrusive persistence 
of common daily cares and petty demands that still 
make life move forward in ghastly mocking sem- 
blance of the days when it had a soul. 

“ Forty and five years together, and now it’s all 
done! Forty-five years repeated the old man, 
now to himself and now to others, in the amaze- 
ment of his grief. “ Seems like ’most all of me 
is gone away. It — it wasn’t like Mary to go and 
leave me. I don’t seem to know what is left.” 

It was evident, as weeks wore away, that what 

was left would never again be the man who had 
28 


[ OVER THIS JORDAN: 


29 


carried his years so blithely, going about the place 
in the vigor of his hale and cheerful old age, at- 
tending to the garden, the poultry and all that be- 
longed to the grounds. 

“ Miss Pete,” said Deb, standing in the doorway 
one morning, “ dere ain’t no meat in de house for 
dinner, an’ no tea. De coffee’s done used up too. 
’Pears like tings didn’t las’ no time when all dem 
folks was hyer — Miss Kitty an’ yer aunt Maria,” 
she added, apologetically. 

“She isn’t my aunt,” interrupted Pete. She 
had never liked Kitty’s city friends, and she 
aroused from her despondent attitude to repudiate 
the relationship. It had hurt her that Kitty had 
come home to the funeral — weeping until her pret- 
ty eyes were disfigured, it is true, and declaring 
that she “missed dear grandma everywhere” — 
and then had gone away again as if she were 
only a visitor. And as for Miss Maria — Kitty’s 
cousin instead of aunt — her way of tiptoeing 
about the house, patting Pete on the shoulder 
whenever she met her, and pouring out her plati- 
tudes of consolation in a voice that had no tone 
of real sympathy, — it had all been wellnigh intol- 
erable. 

“ Mebby she ain’t, chile, dat’s so, but de coffee’s 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


ao 

gone, all de same,” said Deb, returning to the main 
point. “ An* der ain’t no meat for dinner.” 

“ Oh, Deb, what does it matter ?” answered Pete, 
wearily. “ It is only a dinner, and no one cares 
what we have or whether there is anything at 
all.” 

Deb dissentingly shook her turbaned head : 

“ If ’twas jes’ one dinner ’n no mo’, ole Deb 
wouldn’t trouble ye, honey ; but dar’s de nex’ 
day, an’ de nex’. Days won’t stop cornin’, an’ 
folks dat ain’t called ter die has got to keep doin’ 
jes’ de same as when deir heart was in it. Some- 
body mus’ take keer ob him.” She nodded toward 
the figure seated in the old arm-chair where the 
sunlight slanted through the hall. 

Pete’s glance followed Deb’s, noted the listless 
drooping of the form so lately erect, and awakened 
with a pang of self-reproach to the meaning of 
Deb’s words. It was the old command — the hard- 
est, perhaps, that ever falls on our mortal ears: 
“ My servant is dead ; now arise and go over this 
Jordan.” At the river’s brink we may have 
parted from our best beloved. On the hither 
side lie all the old sweet days, the happy work 
together, the precious memories, and we linger 
weeping. When the dark stream swept across 


OVER THIS JORDAN: 


31 


our path, it bore away all hope or care for any 
years beyond. Nevertheless, in one form or 
another comes speedily the mandate that must 
be obeyed : “ Tarry not here to mourn. 1 Arise 
and go over this Jordan*” to the duties that still 
must be done. 

The first step was prosaic enough in Pete’s case, 
but it was obedience. 

“ Well, I suppose I can go to the store and get 
whatever you want,” she said, after a minute’s 
thought. 

In the drawer of an old desk near Pete lay a 
worn pocket-book; she took it up with a slow 
caressing touch as she remembered how often she 
had seen it in her grandmother’s hands. It held 
but a few dollars — enough for present need, but it 
suddenly occurred to her to wonder where new 
supplies were to come from. She glanced toward 
her grandfather again, but his eyes were dreamily 
fixed on the dim, distant line of the hills, and she 
took up her hat and went out without asking him 
any questions. 

It happened that the largest store in the village 
was also the post-office; and when the weighing 
and tying of Pete’s various packages had been 
completed, the merchant bethought him of his 


32 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


duties as postmaster and remarked with the freedom 
of country neighborliness and the familiarity of 
one who had known the girl from childhood, 

“ Oh, Pete, there’s a letter here for your grandpa — 
come in this morning. Shouldn’t wonder if ’twas 
from your father. It’s from somewheres in Ger- 
many, nigh as I can make out the marks on it.” 

“ Yes, it must be from him,” answered Pete, her 
grave face brightening a little. “ We have been ex- 
pecting one this long time.” 

The postmaster well .knew that, but he held the 
missive for a moment and scrutinized it once more 
before he handed it over. 

“ That don’t look to me just like Dick’s hand- 
writing, near as I know it,” he said, “ but then he 
might easy get some one to back a letter for him. 
Might be iu a hurry, you know, or have a lame 
hand. Likely it’s from him.” 

The remark was intended to be at once suggestive 
and reassuring, but Pete did not understand it, 

“Oh, it’s from father, of course; no one else 
over there would write to us,” she answered, slip- 
ping the letter into her pocket, — “ I am glad it has 
come at last,” she added to herself on her home- 
ward way, with a thought that its contents would 
probably replenish that nearly empty pocket-book. 


OVER THIS JORDAN: 


33 


But the expression of pleasure was quickly followed 
by a sigh as she recalled the one who a little while 
ago had been watching with such loving solicitude 
for a letter from “ son Richard.” It had come too 
late. 

“ A letter from father,” said Pete, placing it in 
her grandfather’s hand, as she passed on to the 
kitchen. 

But when Pete came back, a few minutes later, 
her grandfather held the letter with the seal still 
unbroken : 

“ You read it, child. It’s none of Richard’s writ- 
ing — I know that — and I can’t seem to — to make 
up my mind to open it.” 

The hesitating tone and the trembling hand were 
so unlike her grandfather! It was of that Pete 
thought as she took a low seat by his side and 
hastily opened the envelope. Then the opening 
sentence, in a strange handwriting, swam mistily 
before her eyes : 

“ It is my painful duty to communicate to you 
the sad intelligence of your son’s death — ■” 

Pete stared at the page, but her lips grew white 
and refused to utter the words. She turned the 
paper and sought the name of the unknown writer, 
as if so she might refute his tidings. Then she 


34 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


looked at her grandfather. How could she tell 
him the sad news the letter contained. 

“ Grandpa — ” 

“ Yes, child ; read it.” 

“Grandpa—” 

The old man turned at the sound of the faltering 
voice, and his eyes searched Pete’s face : 

“ Is he sick ? Is — Oh, it can’t be that !” He 
laid his hand on the girl’s shoulder, and silently 
she held the letter toward him, so that he too saw 
the words which had greeted her. He drew the 
letter nearer and read again, to assure himself that 
he had seen aright. Then he pushed the paper 
away and bowed his head on his hands. It was 
only for a minute. The outburst of anguish Pete 
had dreaded did not follow : the heavier blow that 
had preceded this had left heart and brain be- 
numbed. 

“ Richard dead ! My son Richard !” he said, 
slowly, as if trying to realize the meaning of the 
words. “ Read what it tells us, daughter.” 

The details were meagre enough. Mr. Wilder’s 
health had been failing for months, but he did not 
think his case so serious as his physician considered 
it, nor did he feel that he could take from business 
cares and excitement the rest that was imperatively 


“OVER THIS JORDAN: 


35 


prescribed. Later his declining strength compelled 
him to a partial obedience, and he sought the baths 
at Ems. For a time he seemed to improve, but, 
flattered by these favorable symptoms into his old 
belief that his medical advisers had been unduly 
alarmed, he ventured to answer in person some bus- 
iness messages that had been sent him, expecting to 
return as soon as he had settled certain important 
matters. He did, indeed, return in a few weeks, 
but only to die. His papers and effects would be 
speedily forwarded to his family. The writer re- 
gretted that, so far as he had been able to inform 
himself, Mr. Wilder’s means had been entirely in- 
vested in some business enterprises from which he 
had expected to reap handsome profits, but the 
event of his death had so changed and complicated 
these affairs that it was now doubtful if they could 
successfully be carried forward or any return ever 
realized from the money involved. A few explana- 
tions regarding the manner and place of interment, 
a few expressions of condolence, and the unknown 
correspondent had completed his task. 

“ And that was why he didn’t write ! Poor Rich- 
ard ! I might have known it,” said the old man, 
softly. “ I thought maybe he was coming home, 
but his mother has seen him first. She grieved so 


36 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


because we didn’t hear from him ; she’ll be glad to 
see him — Mary will.” 

That was the thought over which grandfather 
lingered. The latter part of the letter he seemed 
scarcely to remember, but it was that to which 
Petra’s mind soon returned with troubled question- 
ing. She had no memory of her father, she had 
never even corresponded with him directly, and she 
could not feel his death as a personal bereavement. 
Her grief and dread had been chiefly for her grand- 
father. But this other matter connected with it 
grew more real and important as she studied it. 
The letter had brought, not the usual remittance, 
but, so nearly as she could understand it, word that 
there was nothing more to come — that there never 
would be anything more. The expectation of com- 
ing prosperity which had always colored the family 
life had been only a dream, and was ended now in 
this far-off grave, and even the comforts hitherto 
enjoyed might no longer be possible. She wonder- 
ed whether there was anything beyond the nearly 
depleted pocket-book that she had laid away, and, 
though she shrank from troubling her grandfather 
with any inquiries that might awaken care or anx- 
iety, yet the burden pressed so heavily as the 
hours wore on, the need of a fuller knowledge of 


OVER THIS JORDAN. 


37 


their circumstances became so apparent, that she 
ventured a few questions : 

“ Have you any money, grandpa ?” 

“ Money, child ? What do you want it for ?” he 
asked, absently slipping his hand into his pocket 
exactly as he had done in Petra’s childish days 
when she begged a penny for candy. Then he 
recollected : “ No, daughter, I haven’t any ; I paid 
it all out. They came to me for one thing and 
another, you know, when your grandmother — ” 

“ I know. I do not need it for anything now,” 
interrupted Pete, soothingly. “ I was only wonder- 
ing whether there was any more than I found in 
the pocket-book, that was all.” 

“Your grandmother’s pocket-book? Oh, yes; 
you’ll find some there. And I was expecting 
money from Richard. Poor Richard ! He always 
planned to do great things for us. And to think 
he has gone before me and it is all over ! Seems 
to me ’most everything is over now. I’m getting 
to be an old man — I didn’t think how old until the 
others went away.” 

Petra said nothing more ; she only laid her hand 
tenderly on her grandfather’s bowed head, while a 
firm resolve took root in her heart to shield him 
and to care for him to the extent of her power. 


38 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


That afternoon Petra followed Dick down to the 
garden fence, and the two had a long talk in the 
shade of the gnarled old apple tree. 

“ Well,” said Dick, lying at full length on the 
sward and plaiting the blades of grass while he 
talked, “ I never thought much about it, or Fd 
have known there was only the place here and the 
garden. That ground over where the old wells are 
don’t count for anything, even for pasture. But 
grandfather has always managed it all — ” 

“He will never manage it again,” interrupted 
Pete, decidedly. That was one of the conclusions 
which she had reached that day. 

“ Then there has been money from father every 
once in a while,” pursued Dick. “Some way, 
I always thought of him over there as a sort of 
bank that grandpa could draw on if there was 
any special need. I don’t believe I ever thought 
much about himself,” said Dick, with a touch of 
remorse in his honest boyish voice ; “ it was only 
about what came from there, and that it might be 
something wonderful some day. I can see now 
that it was only a possibility — or not even that — 
and that all we really had was here.” 

“Well, now we have got to make the best of it 
— we two,” said Pete ; “ I am sure grandpa will 


OVER THIS JORDAN: 


39 


never be what he has been. And Deb — she can 
do the housework, can help a great deal, but we 
must earn the money.” 

Dick laughed a little at Pete’s troubled tone : 

“ Oh, we’ll find a way. Why, it’s only earning 
your own living, Pete. I always expected to do 
that, and more too, only I hadn’t thought about 
beginning right away. Other folks do it, and of 
course we can.” 

“ But how ?” questioned Pete. 

That was the problem that had been perplexing 
Petra for hours, but, like most of its kind, it was 
not to be solved in a day nor all at once, but only 
little by little. After that day, however, Dick 
began to take up the work about the place in a 
new way. It was no longer a mere working under 
his grandfather’s directions, doing what he was told 
to do, with but little thought on his own part and 
occasional boyish shirkings. There had come a 
new feeling of responsibility and of interest. 

“ I wish I could move that old well-tract into 
town and sell it off in building-lots,” he said to 
Pete. 

It was only an idle wish, but Dick and Pete 
discussed many projects impossible as well as pos- 
sible in the long evening talks together which soon 


40 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


grew into an established custom. For, though their 
grandfather took up some of his old tasks again — 
fed the poultry, cared for the cows and was ready 
to advise about the products of garden and orchard 
when Dick inquired — yet it was only in answer to 
such questions that he aroused to sufficient interest 
to think or to plan, and it was a concern that faded 
as soon as the subject was no longer pressed upon 
his attention. He did mechanically what he could 
do, but his mind seemed elsewhere. His physical 
strength had failed also ; he had grown old in a 
few weeks, and almost unconsciously he dropped 
the reins into Dick’s young hands. So more and 
more Dick consulted Petra, and out on the old 
porch, in the moonlight, they counted what the 
potatoes would probably bring and planned where 
to dispose of the apples. There were chickens and 
eggs also, and an occasional roll of butter ; so that 
the pocket-book did not get quite empty. 

“ But I never knew until lately that there were 
so many ways for money to go,” said Petra, relat- 
ing the story of her twistings and turnings. “I 
am always stretching what we have to make it 
reach around, and it always falls a little short.” 

“ I mean to have more next year,” said Dick, 
with the assurance of youthful enthusiasm. “ We 


OVER THIS JORDAN: 


41 


can plant the garden closer, and early vegetables 
will pay, I’m sure, if we carry them to Ridgley. 
That’s what I want to do another season.” 

That appeared feasible, and Petra caught at it 
eagerly and aided Dick’s planning with suggestions 
of her own. But she was growing wonderfully prac- 
tical in these days that had so transformed her life, 
and she soon came back to the present : 

“But that is next year, Dick, and the rest of 
this year must come first — a whole winter, when 
there will be nothing coming from the orchard or 
the garden. We shall have vegetables for our own 
use, and milk ; that will go a great way, but there 
are so many things that cost money ! I think it 
will be in the winter that we shall most miss what 
has been coming to us.” 

That view of the case received confirmation in a 
message that Dick brought to his grandfather one 
day. 

“It’s about that interest,” said the old man, 
studying the paper absently at first, then with 
returning recollection. “ I didn’t think about it’s 
being due yet; I’d forgotten that the season was 
so far along. October, ain’t it?” 

“ Interest on what ?” asked Dick. The word 
had a formidable sound. 


42 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“On that mortgage which Squire Gwynn holds. 
Queer that the matter should have slipped my 
mind.” 

Petra and Dick looked at each other in con- 
sternation. 

“ A mortgage on this place, grandpa ? I didn’t 
know there was any,” said the boy, trying to speak 
unconcernedly. He was learning to feel with his 
sister that, whatever happened, grandpa must not 
be worried. 

“ Not a heavy one — only two hundred dollars. 
Oh yes, you must have heard about it, but likely 
you didn’t pay any attention, you children. It’s 
been four or five years now — ever since we built 
the barn and put a new roof on the house. But 
the squire don’t care for that so long as the inter- 
est is paid, and he will not crowd about that, 
either; he knows he’s safe enough. Your father 
wanted me to get more at the time and finish off 
the house and fix up the place. He was busy with 
something then that he w T as sure would square off 
everything in a little while. But I thought I’d 
rather do just what had to be done and wait for 
the rest. I’ve always kept up the interest well 
enough with what he sent, but now — I don’t 
know — ” He looked troubled and bewildered as 


OVER THIS JORDAN.” 


43 


he turned the paper over. “ I don’t seem to be 
good for anything any more.” 

Petra quietly slipped the note from the old man’s 
hand and drew his head down upon her shoulder. 

“ Never mind, grandpa ; we’ll manage it some- 
how,” she said, with that strange bravery of 
womanhood which springs into being so suddenly 
where one loved and helpless is to be shielded. 

Dick nodded his head approvingly and whistled 
his cheeriest tune as he walked away to the barn. 
But, once inside the doors, the whistle changed to 
a prolonged “ Whe — w !” and, thrusting his hands 
into his pockets, he stood still and stared at the 
floor. It was a very sober fit of meditation, but it 
resulted in no more satisfactory conclusion than that 
he understood very little about the matter, that it 
was very important he should understand it fully, 
and that he dreaded to question his grandfather 
further. Then there flashed upon him the sug- 
gestion of a talk with Squire Gwynn himself. 
“ I’ll at least know the worst and the best of it, 
and have the satisfaction of telling poor Pete what 
it all means,” he thought ; and, settling his hat on 
his head with a determined air, he marched off 
toward the village. 

Pete, going in search of Dick a little later, was 


44 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


disappointed at not finding him. He did not come 
at the usual supper-hour, and, though Deb delayed 
the meal a little, it was finally served without him. 
Even Pete’s not very active imagination was busy 
with uneasy conjectures when the familiar click 
of the gate at last announced his coming. It was 
a very business-like face and manner that greeted 
her. 

“ I’ve been to see the squire,” he said, in answer 
to his sister’s questioning look ; and as she sat be- 
side him while he ate his supper he told her what 
he had learned : “ Squire Gwynn was very pleasant 
and explained it all when I told him why I wanted 
to know. He said he would give us plenty of time 
and we can pay the money whenever we find it con- 
venient.” 

“ I’m afraid we shall need a good deal of time 
before we shall find it convenient to pay two hun- 
dred dollars,” said Pete. 

“ It isn’t two hundred now ; it’s only eighteen — 
the interest, you know.” 

“ But it will be eighteen dollars every year until 
we can pay the two hundred — eighteen dollars that 
will not seem to do us any good, and that it will 
be hard to raise. I’m sure it will be hard this 
year. It’s having to pay out so much for the 


OVER THIS JORDAN: 


45 


privilege of being too poor to pay out a great 
deal more,” urged Pete. 

It was a view of mortgages and of interest which 
Squire Gwynn would probably have combated, but 
it was one which impressed Petra so strongly that 
it made her wakeful far into the night, and as soon 
as the work was out of the way the next morning 
— a bright, crisp October morning — she set out for 
a walk without telling any one her errand. She 
had carefully selected a time when Dick would be 
out of the way and his questioning avoided, but 
she found him waiting for her when she returned. 

“ Where in the world have you been, Pete ? 
Deb didn’t know, nor grandpa. I’ve got some- 
thing to tell you,” he added, too impatient to 
await her answer. “I went to see the squire 
again to-day. He asked me to come ; he said 
he had something he wanted to talk to me about, 
but he hadn’t time last night. I didn’t tell you, 
because I thought I’d see what it was first. Well, 
he wants me to take care of his horse this winter, 
and split wood for the fires at his house and his 
office, and a lot of work of that sort. So, you 
see, we have ways of making money in the 
winter.” 

“Yes, I see; I have been to see for myself, 


46 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


too,” answered Pete, with a brighter color in her 
face than it had known for weeks. 

“ Where did you go?” asked Dick, abruptly 
dropping his own story as his curiosity concern- 
ing his sister’s trip awakened again. 

“ I went to the medicine-factory — the one out 
this side of Ridgley, you know. I thought about 
it last night. I was trying to think of some way 
to straighten things out, and I remembered that 
some girls worked there. I didn’t know whether 
there would be any place for me, but they gave 
me one in the — I don’t know what they call 
the room, but it is where they fold the papers 
and notices that they put in with the bottles. It 
will be a pretty long walk — nearly a mile — every 
morning, but I can get up early, and they work 
only from half-past seven till five in winter. They 
pay five cents a hundred for folding the papers. I 
don’t suppose I’ll earn very much at first, but I 
think I can learn to work fast.” 

“ You will if anybody does,” declared Dick, in 
hearty appreciation. “ That’s what I call plucky, 
Pete. You are worth a dozen common girls — the 
kind that only can wear ruffles and play the piano 
and cry when anything is the matter. Not that 
you’ll need to work this way long,” he added, in 


OVER THIS JORDAN ! 


47 


boyish self-confidence; “it’s likely I can support 
this family myself pretty soon.” 

Pete received the compliment in silence. She 
was not quite so sure as she would once have been 
that Dick’s estimates and comparisons were correct. 
On her walk that day she had met the doctor’s sis- 
ter again — the same dainty, stylishly-attired bit of 
young ladyhood that she had at first appeared to be. 
But Pete had learned that she was a teacher in her 
city home and received a salary that seemed to the 
country-girl, in her present straits, munificent. 

“ Say what we like about ruffles and white hands, 
and all that, she can earn more than I can,” said 
Pete to herself that evening. “She knows more 
than I do.” 

For herself, Petra could not wish that she had left 
those who had needed her in the old home, but she 
did regret that she had not made more of the ad- 
vantages she possessed, and she began to doubt the 
superior wisdom which had made her so carelessly 
contemptuous of some opportunities within reach. 
She made some vigorous resolutions in regard to 
study and improvement as she nestled her head on 
its pillow that night, even though she was to begin 
the next week as a factory-girl. 


CHAPTER III. 


M 1 


THAT QUEER OLD WOMAN. 

RS. MEGGS carefully adjusted the shutters 
of the south window and threw those of the 
west window wide open, remarking, with her mouth 
full of pins, that no one could see in from that 
direction. 

“ You mean there ain’t anybody to look,” an- 
swered her sister, Miss Loretta, with the little gig- 
gle that always completed her sentences. 

“ Well that’s so,” Mrs. Meggs explained to the 
patient caller who was submitting to a course of 
pinning, basting and fitting. “ You see, this win- 
dow opens right across to the Holland place — 
Colonel Bradley Holland’s, you know. Of course 
the house fronts on another street, but we can see 
the side door and carriage-drive, and all that. 
Handsome place, ain’t it ? — Anybody come out yet, 
Loretty ?” 

“ Not yet, te he !” said Miss Loretta, mirthfully. 

11 It ain’t that I’m ashamed of doing a little 

48 


THAT QUEER OLD WOMAN. 


49 


dressmaking Thanksgiving morning ; the day ain’t 
Sunday, if it does seem ’most like it,” said Mrs. 
Meggs, defensively, returning to her first obser- 
vation. “ I don’t mind doing a little to oblige 
when a bit of work has been put back like this 
and there don’t seem to* be no other time. But 
there’s some folks, if they once got an idee I’d work 
holidays, would never stop coming. Any ways, 
it’s more respectable not to.” 

It was soon evident that seclusion was not the 
chief attraction of the west window. Miss Loretta 
seated herself close beside it and divided her atten- 
tion between her sewing and the great house opposite. 

“ There’s the carriage !” she announced. 

Mrs. Meggs paused with a pin poised between 
her thumb and her finger and looked out. 

“ Close carriage this time, and the bays,” she 
commented. “ They do have the nicest turnouts !” 

Presently another of Miss Loretta’s watchful 
glances was rewarded. 

“ There they come now,” she cried, excitedly — 
“her ’n that Miss Wilder.” 

Mrs. Meggs flew to the window and watched 
while two ladies descended the steps and entered 
the carriage. The flitting vision of silk and velvet 
appeared to afford her great satisfaction. 

4 


50 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ She had on a plum-colored satin, and the girl 
some kind of a brown suit ; she whisked into the 
carriage so quick I couldn’t tell just what it was,” 
she said, with a long breath, as the vehicle disap- 
peared down the drive. 

“And now in a few minutes the old woman’ll 
come out and trot off on foot. It’s so funny !” 
tittered Miss Loretta. “ ’F I was him, though, 
I’d be ashamed to have my mother walk while 
them that wasn’t so near to me went in carriages.” 

“ He can’t help it, and you know it, Loretty,” 
said Mrs. Meggs, reprovingly. “’Tain’t right to 
talk as if he could. — You see,” she continued, turn- 
ing to the visitor, who was growing bewildered by 
the confusion of pronouns and all this unexplained 
interest, “the old woman is sort of crazy-like — 
not to hurt anybody, but just queer. All the 
rest in the house have their silks and their laces, 
but she wears only the plainest clothes. She won’t 
put a foot in one of their grand carriages, but walks 
wherever she goes, or takes a street-car like any 
poor woman. They say her room ain’l furnished 
as the rest, either, and that she hardly calls on the 
servants for anything.” 

“ And it ain’t for want of money — money of her 
own too,” added Miss Loretta — “ for there’s this 


THAT QUEER OLD WOMAN. 


51 


son, Bradley, and Clinton, and another one, I be- 
lieve, and all of 'em well off — importers, or some- 
thing like that, with mills and I don’t know what 
all here and there. And they pay her so much 
every year for their father’s interest in the busi- 
ness. Land kuows what she does with it all! 
Folks say she’s a miser and just hoards it up. 
Wish I had some of it; I could make it fly, 
te he !” and Miss Loretta coquettishly shook out 
her calico flounces and tossed her head until her 
gilt ear-rings jingled. 

u They say he’s going to be married again soon 
— Colonel Holland,” pursued Mrs. Meggs. “ His 
wife’s been dead five or six years, and his cousin’s 
been keeping house for him ; it’s likely she’ll go 
away now. I s’pose the new wife’ll think she’s 
married a grand fortune, but there ain’t no good 
things in this world without some set-backs, and 
how she’ll get along with a crazy mother-in- 
law—” 

The moralizing was cut short by another of 
Miss Loretta’s little shrieks: 

“ I told you how ’twould be ! Here she comes 
now, in that same gray dress she’s worn all fall, 
and last year too, for all I know. Ain’t it 
funny ?” 


52 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


Yet, without a knowledge of the circumstances 
thus related, no one would have discovered any- 
thing remarkable in the slender little woman who 
passed out through the lawn carrying in her hand 
a small paper-covered parcel and walking quietly 
down the street. Her plain dress — neither coarse 
nor unbecoming — was of some soft fabric that in 
color and style well suited her pale face and her 
smooth gray hair. She had a gentle, somewhat 
sad expression, and the eyes which had lost their 
youthful brightness held the patient, steady look 
of one who had suffered rather than any gleam of 
wildness. There was a slightly timid, deprecating 
air about her, but the face was not a weak one. 
Through the bright November sunlight she took 
her way to a different church from that at which 
the carriage had stopped, and, entering, passed 
noiselessly to a secluded seat under the gallery. 

“ Always sits in that same pew, and it ain’t a 
particularly choice one, either, to my mind,” the 
sexton explained, in a whisper, to a friend in the 
vestibule. “ And she pays just as much for it as 
she would pay for a better one.” 

In the handsome pew, richly cushioned and car- 
peted, in the other church, were several members 
of the lady’s household, but here she sat quite 


THAT QUEER OLD WOMAN. 


53 


alone. The organ notes and the glad anthem of 
praise and thanksgiving died away, and the prayer 
followed. But that she was such a timid little 
woman and her figure so motionless in its shadowy 
corner one might have thought that it was from 
her lips the low “ Amen ” sounded when the earn- 
est voice of the petitioner pleaded for the removal 
of “ the fraud, avarice, intemperance and corrup- 
tion that so imperil the glory and safety of our 
land.” 

The sermon recounted the blessings of the year, 
the prosperity of the community and of the con- 
gregation. Then it touched upon the obligation 
these things imposed — sympathy and help for the 
unfortunate and suffering — and as the speaker pict- 
ured these in sharp contrast with the comfortable 
lives and homes represented by those before him, 
the plain straw bonnet bent lower until the wear- 
er’s face was hidden upon the railing of the pew 
in front of her. 

“Exactly as if she were one of the poor ones 
herself, as she always seems to imagine, and his 
description recalled all the hardships she had en- 
dured !” silently commented one sitting near her — 
one not too deeply engaged in the service to bestow 
curious glances upon a fellow- worshiper. 


54 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


But the object of this comment was unconscious 
of it. She seemed to have forgotten all around her 
until the sermon ended and the customary contri- 
bution for the poor was asked ; then she hastily 
lifted her head and dropped into the basket a bill 
whose careful folding did not quite conceal the fact 
of its high denomination. 

As the lady passed out a few exchanged greetings 
with her, but she lingered a little, as if to avoid 
observation, and reached the street alone. She did 
not go toward home, but turned in an opposite 
direction, and presently signaled a street-car that 
bore her away from the broad thoroughfares and the 
handsome houses to a different part of the city. A 
small store opening from a narrow street and bear- 
ing the sign “ Worsted -and Knit Goods ” was the 
place at which she stopped. A little bell fastened 
above the door jingled sharply as she entered, and 
from a sitting-room back of the shop a young 
woman appeared in answer to the summons. She 
turned as she saw who stood at the counter, and 
said something in a low tone to a visitor back in 
the room, and she too arose and sauntered into the 
store. 

“ Oh, Mis’ Holland, it’s you ! Brought some 
work ?” 


THAT QUEER OLD WOMAN. 


55 


The tone and the manner were an odd combina- 
tion of almost contemptuous familiarity and patron- 
age with an evident effort to be respectful. 

“ I have brought those mittens.” The little 
woman unfastened the bundle with fingers that 
trembled slightly. “ I could not bring the scarf 
to-day : I stopped at church.” 

“ All right ; there ain’t any hurry. You’d like 
the pay for these now, I s’pose ?” 

The shopkeeper winked at her friend as she 
asked this question. It was not so delicate an aside 
as to be unobserved by the person before her. A 
faint flush swept over the gentle, faded face, and 
the voice which answered held a touch of dignity 
and firmness that it had lacked at first : 

" If it is convenient.” 

Looking at the little woman’s face just then, a 
keen observer would have decided that, though no 
human possibility could ever make of her a Jael or 
a Deborah, she might be of the stuff of which 
martyrs are made. She could never battle for her 
principles, but it was not improbable that she would 
die for them. 

The shop woman was not observant. She only 
laughed and remarked carelessly, as she turned to 
the till, 


56 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ Money always comes handy, I guess.” 

The momentary flash of spirit — if, indeed, it 
could be so called — had vanished. The little 
woman received her money, turned it slowly over 
in her hand, hesitated, and then asked meekly 
whether there was any more work ready for her 
to take away with her. 

“ Well, I don’t know. There wouldn’t be any 
for most folks, times is so dull, but, seeing it’s you, 
Mis’ Holland—” 

The sentence ended with a patronizing smile, and 
the shopkeeper went to the shelves, took down 
worsteds and gave an order for more mittens and 
scarfs, rolling up the material while she talked. 
Then, as the door, with another rattle of its unmusi- 
cal bell, closed upon her caller, she turned to her 
companion : 

“ Do you know her ? She’s that queer old Mis’ 
Holland, mother of the rich Holland brothers, 
and she’s worth her thousands on thousands.” 

u She is ! What on earth does she want to work 
for you for?” 

“ Dear knows ! Just because she’s queer I s’pose 
— crazy, some folks call her. That’s why I told 
you to come out here : I wanted you to see her. 
She’s just as anxious to get the work as if she was 


THAT QUEER OLD WOMAN. 


57 


some poor soul that had to earn her own living. 
That’s what they say she does think.” 

“ What does she do with her money?” 

“ I can’t tell you that. Folks say she is a miser, 
but she ain’t; she’s just got some queer cranky 
notions in her head. She happened in here one 
day last winter, asking for knitting in just that 
same way, as if her life depended on it, when one 
of the poor young ones in the neighborhood — and 
land knows there’s enough of ’em ! — came in and 
wanted to get a pair of coarse cheap stockings for 
her mother. She said she’d got her feet frost-bit- 
ten with being out in the cold so much, and, be- 
sides, it made her cough worse. The child’s own 
hands were blue with the cold, and she wasn’t half 
dressed. Old Mis’ Holland looked and listened for 
a minute or two, and then she whisked out a fat- 
pocket-book — not the little purse she puts the 
money she earns in, mind you — and bought stock- 
ings and mittens and underwear as if money wasn’t 
no object. She went home with the child and fixed 
’em up pretty comfortable, I guess, before she left. 
Then a few days later she dropped in here again 
and asked me a lot of questions about the folks 
around here : did I know many poor and was there 
much suffering? Well, you know what Eobin 


58 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


street and around Brink Corners is like. So I told 
of one thing after another I’d been knowing to, 
and she listened with the tears running over her 
face, and finished up by giving me a roll of bills to 
help such cases with as I found ’em — a ‘ trust fund 9 
she called it — and told me to let her know when it 
was gone.” 

“ ’Most felt like being one of the needy yourself, 
didn’t you ?” questioned the visitor, suggestively. 

“ Oh, I like money as well as anybody, but I 
never yet wanted it bad enough to keep what be- 
longed to poor folks,” answered the shop woman, 
with an earnestness that for a moment redeemed the 
coarseness of her face. “ I’ll warrant you she found 
it out, too, before ever she left the money with me. 
She’s sharp enough for that, if she is crazy. But, 
bless you ! she’s kept on wanting work just the 
same old way. Sometimes I’ve let her do it when 
we didn’t really need it for the trade, seeing it was 
such a comfort to her, and paid her out of her own 
money. I didn’t think that was no harm so long’s 
I give the stockings and mittens to the poor when 
they was done.” 

“ Mebby she’ll take a fancy to you yet and leave 
you all her fortune,” said the visitor, in a romantic 
burst of imagination. 


THAT QUEER OLD WOMAN. 


59 


“ Wish she would ! One thing’s sure : I wouldn’t 
always been so polite and obliging if she hadn’t 
been Mis’ Holland. If such folks has crotchety 
notions, they can afford ’em, I s’pose.” 

Mrs. Holland had taken a street-car again, and 
was traveling homeward. A few people in holiday 
dress and evidently wending their way to Thanks- 
giving dinners shared the car with her. Among 
these were a group of girls chattering, in the girl- 
ish fashion that is too common, of their doings, be- 
longings and companions, in utter disregard of those 
around them. One of the latter, absorbed in her 
own thoughts, paid little heed to them, however, 
until she was startled by her own name : 

“ Barbara ? Oh, haven’t you heard ? She’s to 
marry Colonel Holland — at least, that is the rumor. 
Fan said she thought that would be the end of it 
when she saw them at the Island last summer. — Oh, 
Sue, you selfish creature ! eating up all those cara- 
mels while I talk !” 

In vain was the mother’s head eagerly lifted and 
in vain were earnest glances bent upon the group. 
They had dropped the subject that so interested 
her, and, though she listened attentively to every 
word that thereafter fell from their lips, they did 


60 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


not touch upon it again. Who were they ? and what 
did they really know? she wondered. But she 
learned nothing, for after riding a few blocks they 
all left the car together — a dissolving view of bright 
colors and exuberant life — and vanished from her 
world as suddenly as they had entered it. But the 
thoughts and the questions they had awakened re- 
mained, and it was because of these that she joined 
the group in the parlors when she reached home. 

Very pleasant the rooms looked that autumn day 
— luxurious and beautiful enough in all their ap- 
pointments to have banished care and trouble if 
wealth could do it. A cheerful fire blazed on the 
marble hearth, and a bright-faced boy of fourteen, 
seated near it, arose as the old lady entered : 

“ Take this chair, grandma.” 

It was the unconscious utterance and movement 
of habit rather than any special token of thought- 
fulness, for he was petting and teasing a handsome 
spaniel, and continued his occupation without hear- 
ing the thanks accorded him as he dropped to a low 
seat on the rug. Sliding-doors afforded a glimpse 
of a conservatory with a summer-like glory of 
foliage and bloom. There were creamy roses and 
crimson buds in the vases about the room, a scarlet 
spray was in the black hair of the tall lady who 


THAT QUEER OLD WOMAN. 


61 


was moving about with the air of a mistress, while 
the young girl chatting with a guest in a cozy 
window-seat wore dainty blush-roses at her belt. 

“ Flowers everywhere, Miss Kitty,” began the 
guest, admiringly. “ No ; Mrs. Holland does not 
wear any.” 

Possibly the speaker noted still greater differ- 
ences of attire between the others and this one who 
had just entered. Kitty fancied he did, and ex- 
plained very briefly : 

“ Grandma does not care for hot-house blossoms.” 

“ Is Mrs. Holland your grandmother ? I did not 
know — ” 

The slight stiffness of the girl’s manner had sug- 
gested a change of topic, but this second venture 
was hardly more happy. Kitty’s face flushed, 
though she could not have told why, and she an- 
swered hastily : 

“ No ; we all call her so, but really she is only 
Laurence’s grandmother.” Then she appealed to 
the tall lady before mentioned : “ Cousin Maria, can 
you find that volume of engravings we were look- 
ing over yesterday? I’d like to show it to Mr. 
Grey.” 

Mrs. Holland, with eyes bent upon the dancing 
flames, seemed for a time lost in meditation. Per- 


62 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


haps it was the sight of her own hands lying idly 
in her lap that recalled her. She turned to the 
boy: 

“ Laurence, I left some knitting on a table in 
the upper hall ; will you get it for me ?" 

Laurence gave the spaniel's ears a parting twitch 
and arose. Apparently he had thought of sum- 
moning some one to do the errand, but he changed 
his mind as he reached the hall, though he mut- 
tered something — a sort of good-natured grumbling 
— about “ grandma's being so very particular in al- 
ways wanting a fellow to go himself." 

“ And I think it is just what you ought to do if 
your grandmother prefers your services," said a 
gentleman who descended the stairs in time to 
overhear the remark. “ Don't get too lazy, 
Laury." 

“ There are several people in this house who 
don't do all that grandma wants ; they'd have 
their hands full if they did," returned the boy, 
daringly; and then, with a laugh that was in- 
tended to atone for the speech, he prudently ran 
up the stairs without awaiting a reply. 

The only guests at dinner that day were two 
gentlemen, one of whom had a business appoint- 
ment with Colonel Holland, but their presence, 


THAT QUEER OLD WOMAN. 


63 


even more effectually than that of a greater num- 
ber, precluded private conversation. The table, 
glittering with crystal and silver, was faultless 
in its furnishing and supplied with the choicest 
viands. Miss Maria took pride in always hav- 
ing an elegant table. Mrs. Holland did not seem 
to share the feeling. She followed her usual cus- 
tom and allowed herself to be helped only from the 
simpler dishes — choice and tempting enough, cer- 
tainly, but Miss Maria was so sure that something 
more than taste influenced the selection that she 
remonstrated in an undertone when a basket of 
costly hot-house fruit was passed untasted : 

“ Dear me, grandma ! They’re bought now 
and paid for, and they’ll only spoil if they are 
not eaten. You might as well take some.” 

The low words — half tolerant as toward one too 
weak to be responsible, half impatient as combat- 
ing the senseless whim of a child — brought again 
that faint flush to the old lady’s face ; but she only 
declined once more with a slight shake of the head 
and a smile. Whatever hope she had entertained 
of learning at once the truth or the falsehood of 
the statement heard in the street-car was necessa- 
rily put aside, and, dinner over, she soon sought her 
own room. It chanced, however, that on the stairs 


64 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


she met her son. He was going for some papers to 
be looked over in the library and it was not a pro- 
pitious moment for such an interview, but it might 
be hours before she would see him again, and her 
interest was too intense to let even such an oppor- 
tunity pass. She laid her hand on his shoulder: 

“ Bradley !” 

“ Well, mother ?” he laughed. “ You are such 
a little mother that it is a very good plan for you 
to stand a step or two above me when you want to 
talk. What is it?” 

“ I heard to-day — ” She hesitated. “ It sounds 
strangely to ask such a question so abruptly, but is 
it true that you are intending to marry again ?” 

Surprised Bradley Holland certainly was, and 
for a moment annoyed also, but the latter feeling 
was promptly repressed, and he laughed again, 
though with a touch of embarrassment: 

“That is springing a very important subject 
upon a man pretty suddenly, isn’t it? Suppose 
I say ‘ Yes’ ?” Then he added, more gravely, “ It 
is a matter that has been only very recently de- 
cided, though, of course, it is one which has been 
in my thoughts for some time. It is a marvel to 
me how the public gets hold of such items. I 
would have told you at once, mother, if — ” He 


THAT QUEER OLD WOMAN. 


65 


paused, not quite liking to complete the sentence 
by saying “ if it had occurred to me,” though that 
would have been the literal truth. The old mother, 
whom he had long considered childish and full of 
queer crotchets and notions, was to be indulged, 
made as comfortable as possible by all in the house 
and “ got along with ” as best they could ; but he 
no more thought of consulting her than of seeking 
Laurence’s advice on any business venture. Now 
that she had heard of this, however, and seemed 
so interested, he was sorry that he had not told 
her. It might have pleased her. Something of 
the sort — a half apology — he began to utter, but 
his mother was not thinking of any neglect or 
want of consideration, or of herself in any way. 
She had a deeper interest, and scarcely waited for 
his words of explanation. 

“ And do I know her, Bradley — this lady who 
is to be your wife?” 

“ I think not ; I’m not quite sure. Do you re- 
member Miss Graham — Barbara Graham?” 

Mrs. Holland repeated the name as if it had a 
familiar sound, but she was unable to recall any- 
thing connected with it. 

“She is Mrs. Cass’s niece. Do you remember 
Mrs. Cass, who lived near us last summer?” 

5 


66 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ Mrs. Cass? I remember. Her niece?” With 
the slow sentences something — a hope or an expect- 
ancy — died out of her face. 

Tall, well-formed, “fine-looking” man, people 
called Bradley Holland. His face wore the easy 
self-confidence and the complacency of one who 
had prospered and who felt a good-natured liking 
for a world that had treated him well and furthered 
his projects. Some pain or disappointment he dim- 
ly read in the countenance before him, and with a 
kindness that bore just a perceptible trace of the 
condescension of strength to weakness he endeav- 
ored to reassure his mother: 

“ Do not think that such a change in my life 
will bring any change to you, mother, unless it is 
to make you more comfortable. You know I 
would gladly do that.” 

“I know; you have always been kind to me, 
Bradley. I was not thinking of myself.” 

“ And I will tell you more about it — all about 
it — whenever you choose ; to-night, perhaps. Will 
that do?” 

“ That will do, thank you.” 

Mrs. Holland had no desire to talk longer ; her 
eager interest, whatever its exciting cause, had van- 
ished in that brief interview. She passed on up 


THAT QUEER OLD WOMAN. 


67 


the handsome stairway, through the wide hall with 
its rich carpeting and its gleams of marble, and 
entered a room that was in marked contrast with 
those she had left. A plain ingrain carpet, a sim- 
ple bedstead, bureau and dressing-table, a few chairs 
— easy and pretty, but inexpensive — a capacious 
home-cushioned rocker drawn up before the fire 
and a little work-table near it, an old-fash- 
ioned sofa that looked as if it might have been 
worn shiny by children’s clambering feet, and 
back in a corner a little crib of ancient style, — 
these, with a few old pictures, made up the fur- 
nishing, homelike and comfortable enough, but 
strangely out of keeping with the rest of the 
house. In a sunny window a few plants were 
blooming — geraniums, pinks and a monthly rose. 
A basket on the work-table held skeins of colored 
worsted and some plain sewing. The old woman 
stood still for a moment and looked around on it 
all with trembling lips. Then, with a swift mo- 
tion, she crossed the room, and, falling down on 
her knees beside the little crib, hid her face against 
it with a sudden burst of tears and a bitter cry : 

“ How long, O Lord, how long ?” 


CHAPTER IV. 

KITTY. 

"11/riSS MARIA, standing before her toilet-table, 
was slowly unclasping bracelet and pin and 
laying aside the ruby ornaments that had bright- 
ened her rich black dress. The somewhat swarthy 
face that looked at her from the mirror was no 
longer youthful, but Maria complacently noted that 
the black eyes were bright, that the bands of jetty 
hair were unmarked by gray and that the rubies 
were remarkably becoming. She certainly looked 
young for her years, and she congratulated herself, 
as she had often done before, upon having sufficient 
taste to dress becomingly and sufficient sense always 
to take life comfortably and to avoid the worrying 
that is sure to bring lines and wrinkles. 

“So many women wear themselves out with 
their anxiety and worrying ! It would be 
much better if they would take care of them- 
selves and leave others to do the same,” said 
68 


KITTY. 


Miss Maria, philosophically. She had always 
given her first and best care to herself. 

A light tap at the door was followed by the en- 
trance of Kitty : 

“ May I come in, Cousin Maria? There is no 
one down stairs and no probability of callers this 
stormy evening, and I am too stupid to enjoy my 
own society. I thought you would be comfortably 
arrayed in wrapper and slippers by this time.” 

“ I shall be presently.” Miss Maria deliberately 
arranged the rubies in their velvet case and closed 
it with a snap. “I never rush around in your 
fashion. i Take things calmly , is my motto, you 
know.” 

Kitty had reason to know. The maxim and its 
observance had exasperated her often, and she fore- 
saw that it might do so again before this interview 
was over. She had brought her embroidery, but 
it was merely a pretext. She had not dropped in 
from any passing mood of loneliness or sociability, 
but had carefully chosen the time and the place for 
a quiet talk. All this Miss Maria understood quite 
well — perhaps even better than did Kitty herself. 
She had expected her coming, though she intimated 
nothing of the kind. 

It was a peculiarity of the intercourse between 


70 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


these two that they never openly and avowedly 
consulted each other or discussed in frank confidence 
their plans and their wishes. On Miss Maria’s part 
this had been the result of design, the carrying out 
of her purpose to avoid all worry. The position 
of adviser and confidante, especially to a young girl, 
meant responsibility and might bring obligations 
and embarrassments. She liked Kitty well enough. 
She had been perfectly willing to take the oversight 
of her wardrobe so long as the girl was too young 
to do it herself, and to look after her in a general 
way, as she did after the rest of the household, but 
she had no intention of assuming any relation of 
motherly or sisterly guardianship ; she had careful- 
ly kept herself free from all that. She had found 
Kitty in the family when she came there. The 
distant relative who had left three or four hundred 
dollars for the child’s education had bequeathed it in 
trust to Mrs. Bradley Holland, and, with her young 
cousin’s existence in this way brought to her notice, 
the lady had sent for her, urging the superior ad- 
vantages that could thus be afforded. Mrs. Holland 
had promptly decided that the legacy would not 
more than suffice for the girl’s wardrobe while she 
remained, and so had taken all other expenses upon 
herself. Three years later Mrs. Holland died ; and 


KITTY. 


71 


when Miss Maria came to act as mistress of the 
place, she found that the presence of the little girl 
helped to brighten the otherwise lonely household, 
and was glad to have her stay. Colonel Holland 
did not see any reason why the plan for Kitty’s 
education should be changed if Cousin Maria was 
willing to take charge of her, and so Kitty remain- 
ed ; indeed, she was then too young to have thought 
of doing otherwise unless it had been suggested to 
her. 

So, in pursuance of Miss Maria’s purpose, Kitty 
learned to sob her grief out by herself, to confide 
her wishes to a little gilt-edged diary and to get 
along without asking much advice. She learned to 
understand when Miss Maria was talking at her, 
to pick up what was intended for her information, 
censure or misleading, as the case might be, and to 
turn it to such account as she could, without expect- 
ing Miss Maria to say it directly to her. Naturally, 
she soon adopted the same seemingly unintentional 
way of giving any intelligence she herself wished 
to bestow upon that lady, and planned circuitous 
ways of eliciting any information she desired. 
Their conversation on any but the most ordinary 
topics resembled a game of chess — an apparently 
careless playing, yet with a keen eye watching the 


72 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


moves of the enemy and a fixed determination of 
drawing him out. Not that these two were in any 
sense enemies : Kitty could not have explained, if 
she had tried, why they should assume such an 
attitude ; but Miss Maria, furtively noting the girl's 
changing face that evening, again congratulated 
herself on the wise course that had saved her from 
any entanglements of responsibility or obligation. 
Now, as things had turned out, it was comfortable 
to be entirely free. 

Kitty settled herself in a low rocker, snipped a 
thread of embroidery silk and remarked upon the 
weather — wondered whether the rain would not 
soon change to snow : it surely must be time for 
snow. She thought it must have been a dreary 
day for that Upton wedding. Then, apropos of 
weddings, she observed with a careless little laugh, 
holding her embroidery off to view the shading of 
a rose-leaf, 

“ And so Cousin Bradley is really going to marry 
again ?" 

“Really, at last." Miss Maria smoothed out 
the bows on her wrapper. “ You did not meet 
Miss Barbara last year, I believe?" 

“ No." Kitty was sure that Miss Maria remem- 
bered all about it, and she could scarcely hide her 


KITTY. 


73 


impatience in her reply. “ I heard of her, of course, 
but I made no effort to meet her. I did not dream 
then that it would ever be a matter of any conse- 
quence whether I liked her or not.” 

“ I don’t suppose it really is a matter of very 
great consequence what either of us think of her,” 
smiled Miss Maria, blandly. “The important 
point is that Cousin Bradley is satisfied.” 

Kitty smoothed out her work, took two or three 
stitches and schooled her voice into indifferent care- 
lessness before she said reflectively, 

“Yes? Still, if you expected to stay here, it 
would make considerable difference what you 
thought of her yourself.” 

“Certainly, though that is a very improbable 
supposition, for I shall go home, of course. You 
will do the same, I suppose? Fortunately, we 
both have homes,” Miss Maria concluded, with 
her easy laugh. 

Kitty thought of the little village, the old “ Bar- 
racks ” and the quiet life there, and the next few 
stitches pricked her fingers, though she answered, 
without looking up, that she had not thought 
much about it. 

“No, I suppose not; it is one of those things 
that decide themselves without allowing much 


74 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


room for thought,” agreed Miss Maria, decidedly. 
“ With your education completed and a stranger 
coming here as mistress, you could not be content 
to stay, a mere dependant without even a shadow 
of relationship. No, of course you could not 
think of such a thing? I did not mean to sug- 
gest that, my dear. I beg your pardon if my 
question sounded like it,” she concluded, apolo- 
getically. 

Miss Maria had said just what she wanted to 
say — had opened Kitty’s eyes to the impropriety 
of remaining where she was and had plainly inti- 
mated that she must go home — without having 
burdened herself with the necessity of consider- 
ing difficulties or of giving advice in regard to the 
future. She, Miss Maria, had no fortune at her 
command. She could not herself expect to live 
so handsomely as she had done at Cousin Brad- 
ley’s, and she could afford no protegee, she said to 
herself, with a little shrug of her shoulders as she 
remembered her brief visit at the Wilders’ and be- 
thought her that there might be hard times for 
Kitty. 

As for Kitty, she took particular pains with the 
shading of a spray, discarding two or three tints 
of green before she found one that suited her: it 


KITTY. 


75 


for a minute spared her the necessity of speaking. 
She felt as if her hands had been suddenly 
wrenched from their hold and herself pushed 
out into deep water. The truth was, she had 
not thought of going home — or, rather, that she 
had so long considered the Holland place her home 
that she had almost ceased to think of any other. 
Anomalous as was her position in the family, she 
had bestowed very little concern upon it. When 
she first came, she had been too much of a child to 
trouble herself about the arrangements that were 
made or to understand very clearly the intentions 
in regard to her. She was to “ live with Cousin 
Helen and be educated,” and she should see a 
great many fine things and have a nice time : that 
was the sum and substance of the plan as it ap- 
peared to her and as she presented it to rebellious 
Petra and Dick. She had easily adapted herself to 
her luxurious surroundings : such things suited her. 
In all the years she had made but two or three 
visits home, and they were brief ones. She did 
not care to stay ; the old place and the old life no 
longer seemed homelike, and she was glad to get 
back to more familiar pleasures and associations. 
There was no one to talk to her of the future or 
of a life different from the one she was leading, 


76 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


and she made no plans for it. Her school-life 
went on, and the bills were paid without thought, 
often without knowledge, of hers. She enjoyed 
all the benefits of wealth and the standing it gave 
her among her companions, and was too familiar 
with it all to consider the grounds on which it was 
accorded. -After she had been graduated — ranking 
fairly well in studies and high in graduation dress : 
the latter was a great point in the fashionable sem- 
inary which bestowed upon her its diploma — it had 
occurred to her in a serious hour to consult Cousin 
Bradley and learn where she stood, but he had 
treated her inquiries lightly and had given her 
very little information. 

“ Really, Kitty, I don’t know just exactly how 
our account does stand; you see, it is such a 
weighty affair that I haven’t looked it up lately,” 
he laughed. “It doesn’t matter, so long as you 
have what you want, does it ? What is it now ? 
Allowance given out, eh?” 

“ No, sir, but I thought there were only a few 
hundred dollars left for my education.” 

“ Exactly ; four hundred dollars was the amount, 
I believe. You don’t think I have been speculat- 
ing with your funds, defrauding you, or anything 
of that kind, do you, Kitty ?” 


KITTY. 


77 


“ Oh no !” 

Kitty laughed and flushed. It was not quite 
easy to talk to Cousin Bradley, for, notwithstanding 
the years she had spent in his family, she did not 
feel very well acquainted with him. He was not 
a man who had much home-life ; he knew very 
little of what the members of his household were 
doing, and they had still less knowledge of all the 
outside interests and ties that made up the greater 
part of his existence. When he was at home and 
not too much engrossed to talk, he was always 
pleasant ; but his light badinage often perplexed 
Kitty, and as effectively barred any questions she 
might have asked as moroseness or sternness would 
have done. 

“But, Cousin Bradley,” she persisted, after a 
moment’s thought, “ if there was no more than that 
— four hundred dollars — it wouldn’t have lasted 
until now; I must have used it up long ago.” 

“Possibly, unless it was very elastic, as some 
sums are. On the whole, I think yours must have 
been of that kind, and that it has stretched.” Then 
he added more gravely, “Your cousin Helen in- 
tended to educate you, Kitty. I don’t really know 
what her plans were, but I presume Maria has 
carried them out as well as any one could do.” 


78 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ But I am through school now?” suggested 
Kitty, questioningly. 

“ Are you ?” absently, as if his wife’s name had 
sent his thoughts wandering in another direction. 
“ Oh yes ; I had forgotten that important blue- 
ribboned document. Well, you are taking music- 
lessons or something of that sort ?” 

u Yes, sir — music and drawing.” 

“ They are a part of your education, I suppose ? 
Go on with your music and don’t bother, Kitty ; 
it is all right so long as you are contented.” 

Kitty had found it easy to take Mr. Holland’s 
advice. A little money more or less did not seem 
a thing to worry over in that house, and her educa- 
tion had not been of a sort to give her any true 
appreciation of its value. Indeed, she had sought 
the interview with no clearly defined purpose be- 
yond that of learning what she was expected to do 
next, and, as nothing seemed to be expected of her, 
it had been very easy to settle down and enjoy the 
daily life as it came. 

But now Miss Maria’s few sentences had placed 
the changed conditions sharply before Kitty. She 
was no adopted daughter of the family — “ not a 
servant, nor yet a child.” The inducement offered 
for coming had been generously fulfilled, and even 


KITTY. 


79 


if she were asked to remain she ought to have suf- 
ficient self-respect to prevent her becoming a mere 
hanger-on and dependant where she had no claim, 
and where it was scarcely probable her presence 
could longer be desired. That was exactly the 
meaning — none too delicately expressed — of the 
words spoken so composedly while Miss Maria 
was smoothing out ribbons and fastening loops. 

The girl’s face burned with shame at not having 
seen all this for herself, and with indignation at 
Miss Maria for daring to remind her of it, and for 
the careless selfishness which, now that their ways 
were to part, bestowed no further interest upon 
hers. But the humiliation and the resentment 
were only surface emotions ; beneath them were 
dismay and sinking of heart. 

As the days passed and changes began in the 
house — new carpets and hangings and the remodel- 
ing of rooms — Kitty became convinced that, how- 
ever it had wounded her, the prediction that she 
would not be urged to remain was correct. When 
she spoke to Colonel Holland of going home, he 
playfully questioned her u sudden desire to run 
away,” assured her that the house was large enough 
to hold several more people and declared that no 
ogre was coming “ to eat up nice little girls,” but 


80 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


he did not seriously combat her purpose. In just- 
ice it must be said that he did not fully realize the 
situation. He had never thought of Kitty as 
a permanent member of his family — had never 
thought much about the matter in any way, indeed. 
He knew very little of her home or her family. 
She was a young relative whom his wife had 
chosen to assist; that was all he cared to know. 
Niggardliness was no part of his character, and he 
believed in allowing the women-folk of his house- 
hold undisputed sway in their own dominions. 
After his wife’s death he had generously carried out 
her purpose so far as he understood it. With the 
new wife’s coming would begin a new regime , and 
it seemed to him quite as natural that Kitty should 
decide to go home as that Maria should wish to go. 
He had a comfortable consciousness of having dealt 
handsomely by both of them. Apparently, it had 
never occurred to him or to any one else to ask for 
what Kitty’s education was qualifying her. It cer- 
tainly had not fitted her for self-help nor to go con- 
tentedly back to her old home. 

Laurence was the companion that best suited 
Kitty in those days. He did not want her to 
go away, grumbled not a little over the impend- 
ing changes and confided to her his secret doubts 


KITTY. 


81 


about liking a new mother, though, to be sure, he 
supposed he should be at school a great deal and 
off to college in a few years, and he thought it 
would be nice to go out to Kitty’s place in the 
summer and fish. This latter prospect soon so 
thoroughly consoled him as to make the whole 
outlook rather attractive. 

In her loneliness and longing for sympathy 
Kitty did what otherwise she would never have 
dreamed of doing — told her trouble to Grandma 
Holland. She might have known better. The 
old lady pushed back the bright hair and looked 
kindly into the troubled eyes, but only said, 

“ I shall miss your face and voice about the 
house, Kitty, but I am not sorry to have you go 
away from here.” 

“ Of course I love my own folks — I don’t mean 
that I don’t,” explained Kitty — “but everything 
is so different there.” 

“ It may be the best difference in the world for 
you,” persisted the old lady. “It is your own 
home; and if it is plain, that need not hinder 
you from having plenty of love in it. And if 
there is not much money, be sure that what you 
have is clean money, such as the blessing of the 
Lord will rest upon, and you can be happy. 


82 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


Wealth isn’t everything ; never make the mistake of 
thinking it is. The happiest years of my life were 
spent in a plain country home where I looked after 
my own work and could ask God to bless us in bas- 
ket and in store. No other carpet has ever looked 
so pretty to me as one that John and I planned and 
saved a whole winter to buy. How the children 
danced over it the night it was put down ! I 
can see the old room just as it looked that night.” 
The dim eyes filled with tears, and the old lady 
added earnestly, “ Yes, those were the happy days 
of my life, before the devil offered us the king- 
doms of the world and the glory of them.” 

Of course grandma was running off into one of 
her “ queer spells ” when she talked like that, and 
Kitty dropped the conversation. 

There was nothing left for Kitty but to send 
home word of her coming, and so was written the 
letter which was handed to Dick when one evening 
he stopped at the village post-office. 


CHAPTER Y. 
BARBARA'S OUTLOOK. 



RE the shutters in your room closed, Bar- 
bara?” 


Barbara Graham laughed at the question, which 
it seemed to her Aunt Cass had asked every winter 
night since she could remember — laughed because 
she remembered how often this cautious watchful- 
ness over every household trifle had irritated her. 
She went to the window, but lingered there a 
moment to look upon the sky and read its prom- 
ise for the morrow. 

“ Starry, cold and clear : it will be a fair day — 
to-morrow.” 

Barbara said the words softly to herself with a 
lingering emphasis on the last one. Then, with a 
little shiver as the keen night air swept in, she 
closed shutters and sash, and, dropping the cur- 
tains, went back to the fire. It was a very care- 
fully constructed and well-behaved fire — -just so 
many lumps of coal properly arranged in the tiny 

83 


84 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


grate — and with prudent treatment warranted to 
last a certain length of time. From force of long 
habit Barbara stirred it cautiously, contriving to 
brighten the blaze a little without causing the mass 
to topple over or to burn too fiercely. She drew a 
low seat near it and sat down where the ruddy 
glow fell around her. “ Barbara’s face always 
lights up well,” her aunt was wont to say, speak- 
ing of it as she did of certain colors in the pre- 
tentious parlors down stairs; and just now her 
bowed head with its crown of dark hair, the 
brown eyes full of dreamy light and the thought- 
ful changing face made a pretty picture. She had 
carefully drawn her dress aside — that was force 
of habit also, the result of many admonitions — 
to save it from the heat of the fire, but as she 
did so her eye caught the flash of a diamond on 
her hand, and with a swift movement she shook 
the silken drapery back into place and laughed 
again. 

“No, you needn’t do that any more, Barbara 
Graham. The need of such petty economies is 
over ; for the rest of your life you will not have 
to spend what little brain-power you possess in 
studying how to get clothes that you cannot afford, 
and how to keep them in an impossible state of 


BARBARA ’S OUTLOOK. 


85 


preservation afterward,” she said, straightening the 
slender band on her finger and looking down half 
exultantly, half wonderingly at the stone that glit- 
tered in the light like a great drop of dew. It 
seemed to her an open door of escape from many 
things she hated, but it was strange that such a 
little thing could possess such magic. Sitting there 
alone in her own room, she could scarcely realize 
that the old life was so nearly over. How fiercely 
she sometimes hated it all ! And yet there had 
been shelter, home and care always. Aunt Cass 
had tried to do her best as she saw it, and doubtle^j • 
many girls of Barbara’s acquaintance had considered 
her lot an enviable one. She had been educated at 
a fashionable seminary and lived in a large house 
in an eminently u respectable ” neighborhood, but 
all her girlhood had been hampered and fretted by 
the ceaseless struggle to live as people of any con- 
sequence expected to live, as Aunt Cass phrased it. 
To make a slender income do the w r ork of a hand- 
some one and to exhibit to the world the same re- 
sults was the chief aim of that lady’s life, and it 
was a task whose accomplishment called for skillful 
manoeuvring and untiring vigilance. Pinching and 
scrimping in private were necessary in order to 
make a display in public. The gas must be kept 


86 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


low, the fires scant and the servants poorly paid in 
order to meet the expense of giving a grand party 
occasionally and of going yearly to the mountains 
or the sea-side, where they could see and be seen. 
Dresses must possess the elegance and elaborateness 
of the stylish dressmaker, but to lessen her exorbi- 
tant bills a cheap seamstress must be hired to do the 
finishing, and to work under the supervision and with 
the aid of the ladies themselves. How often Bar- 
bara had pitied the poor pale creature, and herself 
as well, in the dreary days when they stitched from 
T lorning till night in some back room, while the 
front of the house was closed and the family were 
popularly supposed to be out of town ! It was a 
frequent complaint of Aunt Cass’s that Barbara did 
not properly appreciate the efforts and sacrifices 
made in her behalf — the endeavor to have her “ get 
on in the world and possibly she did not. She 
certainly grew very tired of the parlors shut up ex- 
cepting on state occasions, of a table whose linen and 
silver might feast the eyes, but which was so mea- 
grely provided for any other sort of feasting that 
even in her school-days the inviting of a friend to 
dinner or to supper was rarely permitted. She had 
often wished for more comfort and less show, and 
had impatiently declared that she would be glad to 


BARBARA'S OUTLOOK. 


87 


change for a plainer life if only it could be “ real, 
clear through.” Still, she did enjoy the occasions 
when the closed rooms blossomed into light, warmth 
and beauty, when the house was filled with guests, 
and when all the delicacies of the season were 
served with a profusion and taste that brought 
Aunt Cass many compliments on her “ delightful 
evenings.” And Barbara liked the pretty dresses, 
though she fretted over the trouble and contriving 
necessary to obtain them. It was impossible that, 
trained as she had been to consider wealth and sta- 
tion of superior importance, she should not desire 
-to attain them, and, though she had more than once 
been humiliated and angered by her aunt’s evident 
anxiety to thrust her into notice and to attract to 
her the attention of some who had wealth — and not 
much else — to recommend them, yet she was elated 
and happy over the consummation marked by the 
ring. Aunt Cass had called the engagement “ un- 
exceptionable — the most fortunate thing that could 
have happened, my dear and she had been so 
beaming and gracious that Barbara had the novel 
sensation of having for once met her aunt’s expec- 
tation and given perfect satisfaction. 

“ Poor Aunt Cass ! I suppose she has meant to 
do the best she could for me, though our ideas of 


88 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS . 


the best haven't always been harmonious/' mur- 
mured the girl, softening, as a generous heart will, 
toward the past she was leaving. 

But the eyes bent upon the sparkling stone pres- 
ently grew graver and the face more deeply thought- 
ful. For, after all, this change before her was not 
only an escape from old annoyances, but an entrance 
upon — What? Colonel Holland was so much 
older than herself, so wealthy and influential, that 
his preference had surprised and flattered her. She 
felt for him an admiration still tinged with shyness, 
and she had scarcely remembered that the giving 
was not all on his side ; for, though Aunt Cass had 
sometimes querulously asserted that Barbara thought 
nothing good enough for her, an overestimate of 
herself and of her deserts was not one of the girl's 
faults. Iu their interview concerning the future 
she had asked but few questions — had cared to ask 
but few — and had trustfully taken much for granted. 
Colonel Holland had told her of his house, but she 
knew very little of it beyond its outward appear- 
ance. There were some relatives who were going 
away — she did not bestow much thought upon them 
— and a son, a half-grown boy, who probably 
would soon be away at school. It had not occur- 
red to her that she could have any responsibility in 


BARBARA’S OUTLOOK. 


89 


his direction ; it only seemed strange to think of 
herself as in any way connected with him : boys 
were an unknown quantity in Aunt Cass’s small 
household. But there was Colonel Holland’s 
mother. Barbara knew what common report said 
of her, and she thought she understood when the 
colonel spoke of her as one of the best of mothers, 
but growing old now, somewhat broken in health, 
and — peculiar. He supposed old people were apt 
to have their whims and their fancies, though his 
mother had rather more of them than most people, 
perhaps, and of a different sort. They could only 
let her have her own way in such matters and make 
her as comfortable as possible. And Barbara would 
not mind even though some things might be annoy- 
ing, but would help to make the best of it for his 
sake ? Barbara had not thought it a hard promise 
to give. Having heard so much from others, she 
was delicately guarded in her inquiries and did 
not talk much upon the subject, but she secretly 
resolved to be very kind to the poor mother and 
possibly — who knew ? — she might make her so 
happy as to win her back to reason again. And, 
as for bearing annoyances, Colonel Holland little 
knew what drill she had known in that line. 

“ Barbara ! Not ready for bed yet ?” said her 


90 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


aunt, looking in at the door. “ What are you 
dreaming over the fire for at this hour?” 

“ Meditating,” answered Barbara, with a smile. 

“ You’d much better be sleeping if you want to 
be fresh for to-morrow.” 

Then Mrs. Cass glanced at the gas-jet and re- 
marked upon its brilliancy. 

“ You certainly have extravagant tastes, my 
dear,” she said, with a complacent laugh, and went 
away leaving the girl to follow her own pleasure. 

A little while before Mrs. Cass would have sum- 
marily ordered Barbara to bed, would have lowered 
that light the minute she espied it, and would have 
sharply rebuked the wastefulness that had permitted 
it to burn at such a rate ; but already there had 
crept into Aunt Cass’s manner a deference for the 
future Mrs. Holland which amazed and amused 
Barbara, who laughed softly as the door closed : 

“ Poor Aunt Cass ! She has had such hard work 
to keep up the semblance of wealth that any one 
who possesses the genuine article moves her to ab- 
solute veneration. I am glad I shall not have to 
keep up appearances any more ; I can appear what 
I am. I am so sick of shams and pretences ! I 
I mean to be real all the rest of my life.” Then, 
as if her half-impatient words had suggested a 


BARBARA ’S OUTLOOK. 


91 


deeper thought, her face grew gentle and more 
grave, and she added wistfully, “ I believe Fd like 
to be good.” 

The expression and the desire were vague enough. 
Barbara did not very clearly know what she meant 
or wanted ; it was only the awakening hunger of a 
soul tired of husks. All her life she had gone to 
church in much the same way that she went to con- 
certs, fine lectures, and other places where people 
in good society were expected to go. It was the 
proper thing to do when they were not away from 
home and when the weather was pleasant. She had 
been instructed also in the etiquette of the place 
and the hour. Aunt Cass was a punctilious obser- 
ver of propriety, and her niece had been taught to 
sit decorously in the pew, to find the page in the 
hymn-book and to bow her head in prayer because 
well-bred people did so. For the rest, Lent was a 
season for running in for repairs, Easter was the 
Epiphany of new clothes, and the other fasts and 
festivals were of about equal significance. She 
heard the gospel message, indeed, but the life that 
preceded and followed that one hour in the week 
was not of a sort to leave much room for any seri- 
ous impression. Every church has its outer circle 
— a mere fringe on its garments — of people whose 


92 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


only connection with it is their attendance once 
each week at the public service ; beyond that they 
pay no heed to its meetings, bear no share of its 
burdens and are utterly ignorant of its various 
branches of work. Mrs. Cass was one of these, 
and, though she would have been shocked by the 
comparison, she arranged her weekly visit to the 
sanctuary much as she would have arranged a visit 
to a fever-hospital — by a previous course of treat- 
ment likely to render her impervious to all influ- 
ences she might encounter — and followed by a reg- 
imen calculated to eradicate any germs that might 
else have developed. 

Still, all preventives occasionally fail, and Bar- 
bara’s faint wish was fanned into stronger life by 
one of those little incidents that we call chance. 
Down the quiet street came a party of belated 
students from some society meeting or lecture. 
One of them began to whistle; the others joined, 
and presently the tune broke into words, sweetly 
distinct on the night air as they passed beneath 
the window : 

“In every high and stormy gale 
My anchor holds within the veil; 

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand: 

All other ground is sinking sand.” 


BARBARA ’S OUTLOOK. 


93 


Barbara listened until the refrain died away in 
the distance. The words recalled the face of Jean- 
ette Grey, a seamstress w r ho occasionally worked 
for her. Often in those long tiresome days of 
sewing that Barbara so hated, Jeanette — almost 
unconsciously, it seemed — would begin to sing. 
Her pale, quiet face, her low, pleasing voice and 
those sweet hymns — always hymns — were a mys- 
tery to Barbara. If often she found life unsatis- 
factory, what must it be to Jeanette, with her bare 
little home, her far from vigorous health and her 
ceaseless round of sewing for other people ? One 
day Barbara questioned half wonderingly, half 
impatiently. 

“ Do you really believe all that, Jeanette? I 
mean,” she explained, as Jeanette looked up in 
surprise, “that I suppose people write all those 
things to be sung in churches and such places and 
because they think it would be right to feel that 
way, but that if any real trouble came to them 
they would only feel dreadfully, like any one else, 
and never think of such things at all.” 

“ But many of them were written by people in 
sorrow — people who would never have known how 
to write them but for that,” urged Jeanette, in 
earnest dissent. “And I have known trouble, 


94 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


Miss Barbara. When my father died, and moth- 
er — ■” Her voice broke. “Oh, I couldn’t have 
borne it — I couldn’t bear it now — but for believ- 
ing just these things. The anchor holds within the 
veil. It does hold !” The last words were spoken 
more to herself than to her companion, an assur- 
ance on which her very soul was resting. So much 
Barbara comprehended, though the language was 
somewhat obscure to her, and the light that flashed 
over the pale, worn face was more incomprehensi- 
ble still. 

But, though Barbara asked no further questions, 
she often watched the quiet, gentle girl with a won- 
der that held in it not a little of respect, and from 
that time there had grown up a tacit understand- 
ing, a mutual liking, which had made Jeanette’s 
days of work in the house much pleasanter and 
Barbara’s hours of sewing less irksome than they 
had been. 

The memory of that talk came back with the 
words of the singers in the street, and the thought 
of Jeanette suddenly reminded Barbara of a little 
packet that had been handed her in the morning. 
A poorly-dressed boy had brought it, and in the 
hurry of the hour it had been laid aside and after- 
ward forgotten. Costly gifts and pretentious pack- 


BARBARA’S OUTLOOK. 


95 


ages were arriving in such numbers that it was not 
strange one so small should have been overlooked, 
but now it occurred to her that Jeanette might have 
sent it. Tiptoeing across the hall that Aunt Cass 
might not be disturbed, she secured the tiny bun- 
dle and returned. Yes, it was from Jeanette — -just 
a plain handkerchief, soft and fine and finished with 
Jeanette’s own exquisite hemstitching. With it was 
a note — a few words of thanks for kindness in the 
past with sincere wishes for Barbara’s happiness 
in the future, and then a reference to that unforgot- 
ten conversation. She “ had often wished to speak 
of the subject again, but had feared that she might 
be considered obtrusive or presumptuous. She was 
sorry she had been so cowardly and selfish ; for 
was it not selfish to keep back good tidings through 
fear that one’s motives might be misunderstood? 
But, now that Barbara was going away, she could 
only entreat her to try for herself this ‘ hope which 
is as an anchor to the soul, sure and steadfast.’ ” It 
was very simple. Jeanette was not a ready writer, 
and after she had labored long over her little note 
it seemed to her stiff and meagre, but none of the 
elegantly worded congratulations on creamy cards 
had touched Barbara as did these earnest lines 
traced so painstakingly on the thin note paper. 


96 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ How queer that it should have come just now, 
when that song had made me think of her !” she 
said. 

Barbara dropped the paper in her lap and looked 
long and soberly into the fire, until the chiming 
of the clock that seemed strangely loud in the still 
house, aroused her. 

Midnight ! Aunt Cass would be horrified. 
Barbara placed the handkerchief where it would 
be ready for use on the morrow — she would have 
that, and no other — and slowly prepared for bed ; 
but when she knelt to repeat the form of prayer 
she had used since childhood — usually it had been 
only a form — she added, 

“Let me find the anchor that will hold in 
storms.” 

Yet it seemed to Barbara, as she laid her head 
upon its pillow that night, that storms and rough 
waters for her were nearly over, and that the life 
upon which she was entering was a smooth and 
happy haven. 


CHAPTEK VI. 


HOME . 

“TT’ITTY is coming home,” said Dick, meeting 
his sister at the gate one evening and hold- 
ing up a letter he had just brought from the office 
— “coming home to stay.” 

Pete was tired with her day’s work and the long 
walk home, and she sought the first available seat 
— which chanced to be the stairs in the hall — be- 
fore she drew the missive from its envelope. 
There, with her hat pushed hastily back, her 
luncli-basket dropped on the step beside her, she 
read the words Kitty had so disconsolately penned: 

“ Colonel Holland is going to marry again, and 
of course it wouldn’t be pleasant for Kitty to stay,” 
said Pete, slowly, looking up at Dick, who had fol- 
lowed her into the house and stood watching her 
while she read. 

“ Well, she don’t need to stay. She has finished 
her education, and that was what she went for ; so 
I don’t see why she’d want to stay any longer, any 
7 97 


98 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


way,” answered Dick. “ She says she has no home 
to go to but this. Of course she hasn’t ; none of 
us have.” 

So it happened that the pensive and martyr-like 
tone of the letter was unnoticed, and the combina- 
tion of circumstances which Kitty deemed such an 
adverse and unexpected fate appeared the most 
natural thing in the world to the dwellers in the 
old homestead. Colonel Holland’s marriage and 
plans were matters of minor interest to them ; after 
the first explanation they soon ceased to remember 
them even as the cause of Kitty’s return. That 
she was coming home was the one important fact. 
The old sisterly feeling, so long dormant, awoke in 
Pete’s heart. She had sorely missed her grand- 
mother, but Kitty’s presence would lighten the 
loneliness, and there were so many things in 
which her advice and help would be a comfort. 
Even the grandfather aroused to an interest and 
eagerness that was strangely unlike him now : 

“Kitty coming home to live? Well, I’m glad 
of that. She’ll brighten up the old house and be 
lots of company for us — for me. She always used 
to trot around after me — into the garden, out to the 
barn or off to the field. Always wanted to help 
grandpa, little Kitty did. Yes, I’ll be glad to have 



“ Kitty is Coming Home.” Page 98. 





HOME. 


99 


her home. Nobody else has much time to spare 
for an old man, but she will not leave him alone — 
my little Kitty will not.” 

If a momentary pang of jealousy, a throb of 
wounded feeling, reminded Pete that her own daily 
absences were not a matter of choice, and that her 
sister had with no apparent compunction left him 
alone for years, she did not put the thought into 
words. It vanished in a moment, and, indeed, she 
had scarcely reflected that it was not Kitty’s own 
free will that was bringing her back at last. Pete 
wanted to make everything pleasant and home-like 
for the returning one, and that was a subject that 
called for study. 

“ We must plan about a room for Kitty,” she 
said to Dick in one of their evening talks. 

“ Why, there are rooms enough,” answered Dick, 
with boyish obtuseness. “ The one thing the old 
Barracks doesn’t lack is plenty of rooms.” 

“Oh, it isn’t just a place; it’s what to put in it. 
You see, Dick,” hesitatingly, “ she is used to every- 
thing nice. I suppose we can hardly think how 
grand everything is in a house like Colonel Hol- 
land’s.” 

“ But it isn’t hers — never was,” said Dick, sagely. 
“ This is her home.” 


100 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ I know ; that is why we want to make it 
pleasant. She has been away so long, been where 
things are so different, that she will notice what you 
and I wouldn’t.” 

“ I wish we had some money to fix up with,” 
said Dick, doubtfully. Then his face brightened 
with a sudden thought : “ I say, Pete ! you might 
take that old bureau out of my room. I ain’t par- 
ticular about my clothes: they can hang up any- 
where ; and if we varnish that up — I can get some 
varnish — and rub up the brass rings, it’ll look 
splendid.” 

Pete laughed at the idea of splendor as connected 
with the antiquated chest of drawers, a relic of her 
grandmother’s early days, but there was a look in 
Dick’s bright, brave, homely face which made her 
feel that, after all, Kitty had something well worth 
coming home to. 

The family resources were certainly in a reduced 
condition ; nevertheless, Pete reviewed them patient- 
ly, pinching a little here, scraping something there, 
that she might make a few purchases. She had 
selected a sunny front chamber, one of the pleas- 
antest in the house, for Kitty’s room, and during 
many an hour at the factory, while her swift hands 
folded papers and pamphlets, her brain was busy 


HOME. 


101 


with plans of furnishing. She had very little 
money to expend ; that fact made thought and labor 
only the more necessary, and these she gave freely. 
The days were not her own, but in the evenings 
she ripped and turned the old carpet and tacked up 
the fresh curtains which, plain and cheap as they 
were, represented an outlay that had been hard to 
manage. Dick brought the promised varnish, and 
some paint as well, and “ shined everything up,” 
as he complacently declared. His admiration, 
when the apartment was at last in readiness, was 
sincere and enthusiastic. 

“ Looks pretty enough for anybody, now, don’t 
it, Pete?” 

The grandfather also scanned the room with 
pleased eyes, and, going on one of his rare excur- 
sions to the village, he returned with a cheap print 
in a much decorated frame. 

“ There ! Hang that up ; that’ll finish off the 
room,” he said, triumphantly. “ Kitty always liked 
pictures, and folks like Colonel Holland have lots 
of such things.” 

“But, grandpa,” exclaimed Pete, in dismay, 
“you have spent the money that was to have 
bought your new overshoes, and you needed them 
so badly.” 


102 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ Never mind/’ said the old man, smiling down 
at his worn boots and rubbing his hands together 
in childish pleasure over his purchase. “ I don’t 
get out much in bad weather, anyhow, and I will 
not care about goiug when Kitty’s here. She 
mustn’t miss things she’s used to.” 

So many articles that money would have bought 
if it was to be diverted from its original object ! 
But it was useless to think of that now, and Pete 
hung the picture in silence. 

Down stairs old Deb shook her head doubtfully 
and muttered to herself : 

“ Jes’ like dem folks ’way off ’mong de heathens 
— hingin’ down dere po’ treasures for de Jugernot 
ter roll ober ’em ! An’ what’s crush under de 
wheels is nuff sight mo’ precious dan de dress-up 
image dat’s ’bove de wheels.” But she said it only 
to herself. 

It was just at twilight of a cloudy day that 
Kitty stepped from the train to the platform of the 
little station, the only passenger for the village. 
Inside the cars the lamps were already lighted ; 
outside a cold gray sky bent over the snowy earth. 
The place looked dreary, the small station more 
shabby and ill-kept than she had ever before 
noticed it to be. The girl felt like crying out after 


HOME. 


103 


the swiftly receding lights. All her fellow-passen- 
gers were going somewhere ; she only was dropped 
in this out-of-the- world nook. 

“ Here you are !” cried a hearty voice, and Dick 
rushed up breathlessly. “I had an errand to 
Squire Gwynn that kept me a little late, and then, 
when I heard the whistle, I ran a race with the 
cars. Glad you’re home again, Kitty.” 

“ I am glad that somebody is glad,” said Kitty, 
with a faint smile and an effort to say something 
truthful that would not sound unkind. 

Dick had no thought of analyzing Kitty’s re- 
mark ; he was only anxious to get her and her be- 
longings safely home, where Pete could help take 
care of her. She was only Kitty, to be sure, but 
there was that about her dress and her manner that 
suddenly reminded him of the patch on his heavy 
boots, and that his coat-sleeves were too short and 
his hands a pair of awkward appendages that he 
did not know exactly where to bestow. He did 
not care for frippery, he assured himself, and grew 
a trifle more brusque and angular than usual to 
show his superiority to anything of the kind. 
Then he remembered again that this was just 
Kitty, and comforted himself with the reflection 
that she would “ not seem so much like company 


104 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


in a few days.” Dick detested what he called 
“ company.” 

“ How awkward and homely the boy has grown !” 
Kitty thought as she followed him. 

It was a hard evening despite the grandfather’s 
delight in Kitty’s return, Pete’s welcome and old 
Deb’s extra exertions in the culinary line. Kitty 
could not eat. The barrenness and the plainness 
of everything about the house had not struck her 
so forcibly when she came on her rare visits — per- 
haps because she did not think of herself as con- 
nected with it then — and the place was surely more 
poverty-stricken than in the old days. She had 
known, of course, that all remittances from abroad 
ceased with her father’s death, but it had made no 
difference to her at Colonel Holland’s, and she had 
not thought how it must affect those at home. 
How could she endure such a life? 

“ We’re glad to have you come home again, little 
girl,” said her grandfather, aroused to unusual 
talkativeness while she made a pretence of sippiug 
her tea. “ Seems like the old times back again — 
if your grandma was here.” 

Kitty noticed that it was “ a horrid red silk 
handkerchief” that wiped the dim old eyes — no- 
ticed that more than the tears or the trembling 


HOME. 


105 


voice. She excused herself on the plea of being 
tired, and escaped to her own room as early as pos- 
sible. 

“ Well, wasn’t she surprised?” asked Dick, who 
had eagerly awaited Petra’s return for a description 
of the pleasure that carefully prepared room had 
afforded. “ Didn’t she think it was nice?” 

“ She didn’t say,” answ'ered Pete, slowly ; “ she 
was so tired, you know.” 

But Kitty, the moment she was left alone, had 
surveyed the apartment with a pity for herself that 
deepened with every detail of her surroundings. 
The new picture on the wall added the last straw 
to the intolerable burden of disgust. 

“ Cheap, tawdry thing ! The old paper was ugly 
enough without adding that horror,” she said ; and, 
throwing herself on the bed, she buried her face in 
the pillow with a passionate burst of tears. She 
did not expect to sleep that night. Indeed, she 
wrote in her journal — a large gilt-edged, tinted- 
leaved volume with a tiny lock and key — “ I am 
far too wretched to seek repose ; I can only keep 
vigil with my own sad thoughts.” But she had 
promised to send weekly voluminous extracts from 
that journal to her intimate friend, Angie Bates, 
and one who expects to relate her experiences will 


106 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


be quite certain, even though unconsciously, to 
shape her experiences with a view to relating them. 
The vigil, however, was an exceedingly short one. 
The downy bed and the fresh sheets, with their 
faint odor of lavender from Grandma Wilder’s old 
linen-press, were not conducive to wretchedness, 
and Kitty remembered hers no more until the sun 
was shining in at her windows the next morning. 

It was Deb’s voice at the door, and not the sun- 
light, that awakened the sleeper : 

“ Don’ yer wanter hab yer breakfus now, Miss 
Kitty ? Miss Pete she done gone long ago. ’Pears 
like yer grandpa be mighty glad ter see yer.” 

To the early breakfast of the family Petra had 
not allowed Kitty to be summoned. She was tired 
that morning ; they would let her rest, she said to 
her grandfather and to Deb, impatient for different 
reasons. Even to herself she did not acknowledge 
the undefined feeling that the day would begin 
more comfortably if Kitty did not see her work- 
dress, her lunch-basket and the always somewhat 
hurried and forlorn meal by lamplight. 

So, when Kitty had made her leisurely toilet and 
descended to the kitchen, she met only her grand- 
father and Deb. The latter, obeying Petra’s part- 
ing request, had brought forth the few remaining 


HOME. 


107 


pieces of china — a rare old cup and plate — and had 
arranged her muffins and coffee as temptingly as 
possible on a white-draped table by the window. 

The old man, sitting before the fire, looked up 
eagerly as Kitty entered : 

“ Here she comes — little Kitty ! Slept good in 
that nice room, didn’t you ? You look pretty as a 
pink this morning.” 

The delicate cashmere wrapper suited well Kit- 
ty’s fair face, however unsuitable it might be to 
her surroundings. But a pink could scarcely have 
manifested less appreciation of the admiration it 
evoked than did Kitty ; she was thinking of the 
breakfast-room at Cousin Bradley’s, and did not 
heed the remark. Then, too, she had an injured 
feeling that Pete might at least have stayed at 
home for one day, and not have left her entirely 
to the company of these two : 

“ We have got a nice lot of chickens now — Leg- 
horns and Cochins. Remember how you used to 
like to help me feed the chickens, Kitty ?” said her 
grandfather, moving his chair a little nearer the 
table. “ I haven’t been out to feed ’em yet this 
morning,” he added, suggestively. 

But Kitty was indifferent to the beauties of the 
feathered tribe and utterly averse to renewing an 


108 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


acquaintance with the poultry-yard ; she would 
not understand the invitation : 

“ Have you ? I’m afraid I’m no judge of such 
things now, grandpa. I was only a little girl 
then, and liked to race about anywhere. Grand- 
ma ought to have kept me in more.” 

A flash of pain crossed the worn old face and 
there was a touch of sternness in the simple 
words : 

“Your grandma was mighty good to you, 
Kitty.” 

“ So she was — always. I didn’t mean anything 
else,” answered Kitty, with a burst of remorseful 
tenderness as she recalled the loving face that had 
made the sunlight of her childhood. “ She was 
only too good to me, and so were you, grandpa.” 

The tears in the blue eyes instantly softened the 
old man. 

“To be sure you didn’t mean anything else, 
child ; grandpa knows that. And you was a com- 
fort to us both, Kitty, from the time your father 
first brought you up to the old farm in Kannuck 
county. The house was sort of lonesome with just 
us two, and ’twas good to have a little child in it 
once more.” 

Kitty talked with her grandfather for a little 


HOME. 


109 


while of the old times — or, rather, listened while 
he talked — and even went up stairs with him to 
look at a few books that had been “ Richard’s, 
poor boy !” At the door of her room he could 
not resist the temptation of pausing to ask, 

“ That new picture sort of makes the room look 
home-like, don’t it, Kitty? Sort of nice, eh?” 

“ Oh, grandpa ! That ?” Kitty made a little 
grimace. “ What did possess Pete to get it?” 

“ It-I thought it was pretty nice,” he faltered. 
He had wanted to tell her that it was his thought 
for her, but the words refused to come. “ I don’t 
s’pose I know about such things,” he added, hum- 
bly ; and then he suddenly remembered that the 
chickens were still awaiting their breakfast, and 
silently led the way down stairs. Somehow, the 
winter day was not so bright as he had thought 
it earlier. He shivered as his steps crossed the 
yard : the old boots were badly worn, after all. 

Kitty was glad to be left alone. She comforted 
herself with the reflection that she had been duti- 
ful, unselfish and pretty nearly heroic that morn- 
ing, but she was glad to be free to busy herself in 
the one congenial occupation that remained to her 
— that of writing a long letter to Angie Bates. 
She spent the remainder of the forenoon in her 


110 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


own room, filling page after page with descrip- 
tions of the house and its deficiencies, its inmates 
— “ good, you know, and very dear to me, of course, 
but so entirely uncongenial ” — and of the “ narrow 
village life” of which she knew nothing. Angie 
would be sure to understand and sympathize, for 
she had insisted that the change in Kitty’s life was 
“ just like a story,” and had called her “ you poor 
dear heroine” when they parted. 

After the early dinner Kitty changed her dress, 
and, arrayed in a pretty street-suit, walked up to 
the village to mail her letter. More than one 
turned to look at her as she passed, and she was 
pleasantly conscious of being worth the glances — 
a more stylish figure than often graced those streets. 
Mrs. Lieb, indeed, drew back her window-curtain 
and watched her until she was out of sight. 

“ That’s Kitty Wilder, and they say she’s come 
home to live. Wonder what on? She don’t look 
much as Pete did when she went hurrying by to 
the mill this morning. ‘Some in rags, and some 
in tags, and some in velvet gowns,’ is a little too 
much variety for one family. She’ll be about as 
much use as a poppy in a bed of beets — not quite 
as much — and she won’t be nigh so contented.” 


CHAPTER VII. 

FUNDAMENTALS. 

mHE “ company ” atmosphere lasted a long time, 
it seemed to Dick. When he came hurrying 
home at night with some interesting announcement, 
a glimpse of Kitty through the window sent him 
slipping around by the back door to brush his 
clothes and to don a collar instead of bursting in 
as he had intended. The amazed glance and the 
slightly arched brows of the blue eyes on the op- 
posite side of the table at once apprised him of 
any breach of table etiquette and made him un- 
comfortably watchful. These were not so great 
evils as careless Dick was inclined to consider 
them ; but when, instead of sitting with the family 
in the evening, Kitty gracefully excused herself 
and withdrew to her own room, as if she were only 
a boarder, and when he noticed that Pete had a way 
of not bringing out until after Kitty had gone 
various bits of mending and making that too plain- 
ly revealed the household economies, it really did 

ill 


112 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


seem a little too much like company. He wondered 
how long a time it required to transform a visitor 
into one of the family. 

Possibly^ Petra wondered also. Those sisterly 
consultations and confidences to which she had so 
eagerly looked forward did not come. The nearest 
approach to one had been when Kitty protested 
vigorously but vainly against the factory- work : 

“ I hadn’t thought you were doing anything like 
that — -just a common factory-girl ! Pete, I can’t 
bear to think of such a thing. You really must 
give it up. It — it isn’t respectable.” 

“ I don’t know what you mean by it” said Petra, 
hotly. “ I am respectable, and so is the factory.” 

“ But that kind of work ! Of course you can’t 
know much about it in a little village like this, but 
it is considered — Well, not disreputable exactly, 
but very low; not the sort of work any young 
lady would ever undertake,” urged Kitty. 

“ If the young lady needed work very badly, 
she would have to take what she could find, just as 
I did,” answered Petra. Then the real distress in 
Kitty’s face softened her tone, and she added, “ I 
suppose this isn’t much like those great mills in the 
city that you are thinking of. This is only a medi- 
cine-factory, you know, and iu the room where I 


FUNDAMENTALS. 


113 


am there are only eight or ten girls all together, 
and they are well enough, so far as I have seen — 
quiet and nice.” 

“ Oh yes, I supposed it was different out here ; 
but people will think of it just the same. Every- 
body will not know. And, as for needing to do it, 
I ? d rather live on crusts.” 

“Who will furnish the crusts?” asked Pete, 
dryly. 

“ There must be some way,” Kitty declared. 
“Couldn’t we economize? We might do without 
help.” 

“ If ‘ help 9 means poor old Deb, who has lived 
here ever since I can remember, and who has no 
other home and no way of taking care of herself, 
we will never do without her — not if I work in a 
dozen mills !” answered Pete, her dark eyes flash- 
ing. “ Whether she is help or hindrance, Deb will 
always have a home with us while we have one.” 

That ended the conversation. It occurred to 
Petra afterward that she had not taken the slightest 
trouble to explain or to conciliate and that tone and 
words had been unnecessarily sharp and indignant. 
In truth, it was less what Kitty had said than a 
faint echo in her own heart that irritated her. Her 
work was honest and all that seemed open to her, 


114 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


as she had said, but it ^yas not what she would 
have chosen — not all she might have been fitted for 
had she not in the old days been so contemptuously 
sure that educational advantages were for the most 
part disadvantages and the accomplishments and 
acquirements of young ladyhood in general mere 
nonsense. Such young ladies as her sister knew — 
young ladies like the doctor’s sister, whom she 
still so distinctly remembered — would not be like- 
ly to seek mill-work, indeed; they knew how to 
do something better, Petra admitted to herself, 
rather bitterly. She had after a fashion kept her 
resolution to study, but all the more because of 
that — because every new step in knowledge had 
revealed to her more clearly her ignorance — she 
was dissatisfied with herself. She had hoped Kitty 
would understand and help her, and had expected 
in a vague way that Kitty’s superior knowledge 
and attainments would be turned to good account 
financially. 

Once, when Dick, in talking of Kitty’s coming, 
had questioned a little doubtfully of ways and 
means, Petra had answered confidently: 

“ Oh, there are so many things Kitty can do.” 

But it had not turned out as Pete expected — she 
hardly knew what she had expected — and, alto- 


FUNDAMENTALS. 


115 


gether, the girl was growing discouraged and sore- 
hearted, vexed with her sister and herself, and so 
irritable at times that Dick watched her wonder- 
ingly. 

As for Kitty, she was shocked to find Petra so 
infatuated with her employment that she resented 
the mere mention of giving it up. To do Kitty 
justice, it must be admitted that she did not fully 
comprehend the family embarrassments and circum- 
stances. She knew the facts, indeed, but they con- 
veyed very little meaning to her. She remembered 
that in the old childish days, when she had lived at 
home, everything had been homely and plain, but 
there had been no anxiety about providing such as 
they had ; or if they were compelled to pinch at 
one time, they lived lavishly at another. She had 
felt no care and no one else appeared to be bur- 
dened. Matters were always expected to come out 
right, and it was considered probable that next month 
or next year everything that was desirable would 
be attainable. From this atmosphere of great ex- 
pectations she had gone to a home where money 
was really as plentiful as it had always been just 
about to be in her own home. Her education had 
not been sufficiently practical to give definiteness 
to her ideas on such points, and she had never 


116 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


learned the inexorable limits of a dollar. Aside 
from this, she was too full of pity for her own sad 
lot to bestow much thought upon that of others, 
except in so far as it concerned herself. The life 
at her cousin’s had been in no true sense a family 
life ; it had fostered no sweet unselfishness. And 
Kitty did not consider that mill-work might be a 
hardship for Petra ; she thought only of the hard- 
ship of having “a common factory-girl” for her 
sister. The poverty of the family caused her less 
regret than the fact that she was connected with a 
family which was guilty of poverty. 

Still, Kitty had begun to ask herself what she 
could do. Life was growing monotonous. She 
could not spend all her time in her journal and 
correspondence, and, besides, after she had first 
learned that this home-coming was inevitable, she 
had made some heroic resolves — at least, she had 
thought them heroic and very beautiful. She had 
determined that, since she must be exiled to such a 
barren and uncultivated corner of the earth, she 
would try to be a missionary to the poor plodding 
people about her and make her presence a blessing. 
She had read of the influence of a refined and cul- 
tivated lady in a wild, rough region of country — 
how by her gentleness and goodness, her library 


FUNDAMENTALS. 


117 


and tasteful home, she had effected great reforms 
and gradually changed the low tone of society 
around her. Angie Bates had clasped her hands 
rapturously at this idea, declaring that “ a life of 
self-sacrifice was too lovely for anything,” and, 
though it occurred to Kitty that her friend might 
find the contemplation from a distance more enjoy- 
able than the reality, she really intended to try it. 
Some little thought of that had mingled with her 
protest against Petra’s occupation ; it would be 
helping her sister into a higher sphere. 

Sitting in the plain church one Sunday morning, 
Kitty’s mind came back from a long wandering in 
the direction of the magnificent city church, Cou- 
sin Bradley’s pew and its neighbors in time to catch 
a few earnest sentences that fell from the lips of 
the village pastor. He was a very earnest man 
— she had acknowledged that when she first heard 
him — but his words had not made much impression, 
because when she listened at all it was only to con- 
trast matter and manner with those of the city pul- 
pit. Now, however, something caught her atten- 
tion — no burst of eloquence, but plain, strong 
words from the text he had chosen, which, until 
now, had passed her unheeded : “ Hold that fast 
which thou hast, that no man take thy crown.” 


118 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


Was he right in saying that not by coveting an- 
other’s life or reaching for another’s talents, but in 
holding fast what one had — what had been given 
to one’s self — and making the most and best of it, 
was the crown to be fashioned? She knew all 
that, but she had not thought of it in just that way. 
It recalled and strengthened her purpose of mak- 
ing her life useful to those people around her, and 
suggested, also, something more definite than the 
vague ideas she had hitherto entertained. Who 
would know so well as the minister where and how 
she could best begin her mission ? She would talk 
with him about it. He knew the people and their 
needs, and a vision of his pleasure in finding such 
an assistant and ally crowded out the remainder of 
the sermon. 

The same expectation of giving pleasure made 
Kitty view her errand as not a disagreeable one 
when she stopped, the next day, at the minister’s 
door. His mother — a plain elderly lady wearing 
an ample white apron over her afternoon dress, 
after the manner of her village neighbors — an- 
swered the summons. It was a sweet, motherly 
face under the smoothly brushed gray hair, if her 
young visitor had noticed it. She cut short the 
introduction by her frankly extended hand and 


FUNDAMENTALS. 


119 


the statement that everybody knew everybody in 
so small a place. She inquired after Kitty’s grand- 
father while she drew an old-fashioned rocker into 
cozy proximity to the fire, and then stepped across 
the hall to a closed door. 

The announcement came back to the girl as she 
waited : 

“ John, Miss Wilder — Miss Kitty Wilder — 
wants to see you if you are not too busy.” 

The last clause and the reluctant tone were no 
part of the caller’s message : it had not occurred to 
her that she might be intruding upon precious time. 
The comfortable room into which she was shown- 
was a very plain one, rich only in books, and the 
minister’s coat was undeniably somewhat worn and 
shiny on the back. Nevertheless, Kitty found it 
not quite so easy to explain her errand so fluently 
and gracefully as she had expected. There was a 
peculiar earnestness in the dark eyes bent upon her 
before which figures of speech seemed to melt away 
and leave only bare facts. The whole atmosphere 
of the place was stubbornly real, as if it were a 
part of yesterday’s sermon, and had a disenchanting 
effect upon many things. 

Kitty began by alluding in a vague way to the 
sad changes in her life, the “ reverses of fortune,” 


120 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ uncongenial surroundings, ” but the face opposite 
her looked only perplexed : 

“ I thought — I beg your pardon, but I had 
always understood this was your home?” 

“ It was in my early childhood, but I have been 
away so long and have lived so differently — ” Kitty 
hesitated. “One accustomed to affluence cannot 
but feel its loss, Mr. Kent, when it is suddenly 
taken away.” 

“Certainly not; but if your cousin — he was 
your guardian, was he not ? — invested your proper- 
ty in such a way as to lose it, I should have sup- 
posed him to be both able and willing to replace 
it,” answered Mr. Kent, at a loss how properly to 
sympathize or to console in this trouble which he 
did not understand, and bewildered by this sugges- 
tion of a fortune of which he had never heard in 
conversation with any of the Wilder family. 

“ Oh, I did not mean that !” Kitty’s cheeks 
flushed. “ I did not mean to convey the idea that 
I had property of my own. But I had been at 
my cousin’s so long that it was like home to me, 
and the sudden changes there, and the loss of 
everything — ” 

“ Your cousin ? Bradley Holland ?” A sudden 
change passed over the minister’s face, and he spoke 


FUNDAMENTALS. 


121 


quickly. “ I have heard nothing of that. It can- 
not be possible that he has lost everything ?” 

“ I referred only to the changes and the loss to 
myself,” said Kitty, rather stiffly, forgetting to 
wonder at Mr. Kent’s knowledge of Colonel Hol- 
land and only annoyed at his obtuseness. “ But I 
did not intend to talk of that ; I wanted to ask 
your advice in another matter. I suppose you 
know the needs of most of the people about here, 
Mr. Kent?” 

“They come to me with their troubles some- 
times — yes,” answered Mr. Kent, wondering if the 
rather enigmatical young lady was trying, before 
she ventured to ask his counsel, to learn whether 
it was the fashion of the place to confide in him. 

“ I suppose they need assistance in many ways ?” 

“No, I cannot say that. They are a provident, 
thrifty people for the most part — poor, many of 
them, but independent.” 

It was evident that delicate introductions were 
wasted upon this straightforward man. Any sub- 
ject that he was to consider must be set squarely 
before him, and the directness with which Kitty 
finally stated her errand was partly due to vexa- 
tion : 

“ Whatever is taken out of our lives, we ought 


122 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


still to try to make them useful, I suppose, and I 
have thought that there might be something for 
me to do even in a place like this — something that 
would be a benefit to others. I have had some ad- 
vantages that perhaps might be turned to account. 
I do not want to be a mere idler where there is so 
much need for help ; and if you could give me 
some advice about going to work — ” 

Mr. Kent’s face grew suddenly as bright as 
Kitty’s Sunday dream had pictured it, and he ex- 
tended his hand in cordial appreciation of the ad- 
vice solicited. 

“ I’m glad to hear you say that, Miss Kitty. 
It is a brave, sensible way to look at the matter, 
and the only right way, but — I owe you the con- 
fession — I feared that after so many years at your 
cousin’s you might be unwilling to adopt it. You 
can be a great help to them, and, as you say, there’s 
need of it. Your grandfather will never be able 
to undertake any business again, and your sister 
has been carrying a burden too heavy for her. I 
scarcely know how she and Dick have managed to 
do so much. Had you thought of any plan for 
yourself — any work that you thought you could 
do?” 

The girl only looked at the speaker in dumb 


FUNDAMENTALS. 


123 


amazement, but, without noticing her silence, he 
was swiftly running over various possibilities : 

“You have had advantages— true ; the best of 
schools, I presume. Have you thought of teach- 
ing ?” 

“ No,” gasped Kitty. 

“ As you have said, there are not many openings 
in a place like this, but still there should be some- 
thing. There will be a vacancy in the school here 
in a week or two — ill-health has compelled the 
teacher to resign — and I do not think any one has 
been selected to fill her place. Why not try for 
that at once ? Mr. Barton is the person to whom 
you should apply. Have you met him since you 
came home?” 

“ No,” said Kitty again ; the monosyllable was 
all she could force herself to utter. 

“And shall I speak to him about you? Or, 
better still, I might give you a note of introduction, 
and then you can see him for yourself and attend 
to the matter at once. I am glad I thought of it. 
I hope it may prove the very open door you were 
seeking.” His face glowed with satisfaction while 
he hastily penned the note, and he placed it in 
Kitty’s hand with hearty wishes for her success. 

Kitty accepted the missive with a mechanical 


124 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ Thank you ” — she could think of nothing else to 
say — and withdrew with a scarcely articulated mur- 
mur of good-bye. It was her one comfort after- 
ward, in recalling the latter part of* that interview, 
that she had not been able to say anything. 

The whirl of conflicting feelings in which Kitty 
sought the street it would be impossible to describe. 
Anger, pride, astonishment, indignation, surged and 
ebbed in turn. She did not go to Mr. Barton, 
neither did she turn her steps homeward ; she only 
wanted to be alone, and, with flaming cheeks and 
the hot tears in her eyes, the keen cold air was 
unnoticed as she hurried down the street, not car- 
ing whither. What did the man mean? How 
could he so have misunderstood her ? And yet if 
what he had said was true — it must be true — she 
was not sure that she was sorry he had failed to 
understand. Was that what people had been think- 
ing of her these weeks — pitying poor Pete because 
she had one more to support? What would Mr. 
Kent have thought if he had known that she had 
entertained no idea of helping her family, but was 
only planning to be a lady-patroness, a “ minister- 
ing angel ” to the village at large, while her own 
sister worked in a mill to support her? Was that 
really the truth ? She was sure it must be when 


FUND A MENTALS. 


125 


she began to consider what the home-life had been 
since her return. She had known it all ; why had 
she been so stupid as not to comprehend what, 
doubtless, the whole village had seen and had 
been talking of? 

Hotter grew the cheeks under the delicate veil. 
Kitty was out of the village now, and down by the 
quiet river-side, where there was no one to observe 
if the tears had their will. How dared Mr. Kent 
tell her all those things about her family — that they 
were so poor, her grandfather unable to work and 
Pete doing entirely too much — that they needed her 
help ? No, he really did not tell her ; he had only 
thought she was telling him. And how he com- 
mended the resolution she had never dreamed of 
making ! Kitty was honest, and the undeserved 
praise hurt almost as badly as all the rest. 

“ Oh dear ! What can I do about it all ? I 
never thought of working for money — for a living. 
I don’t want to. I don’t see why everything must 
have happened so,” she murmured, in weak protest, 
her eyes fixed upon the cold gray river that flowed 
by unansweringly. “ I suppose I might take that 
school and teach. How horrid it will be ! But I 
can’t think of anything better. I can’t think of 
anything else, better or worse, and I must do some- 


126 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


thing. Oh dear ! I almost wish I could die just 
now and end it all.” 

The wish was about as sincere as such wishes 
generally are — as Jonah’s under his withered gourd. 
In her very heart Kitty did not believe that death 
would end it all, and she was somewhat startled by 
her own words. They aroused her to a swift con- 
sciousness that this was a strange beginning for the 
life of u noble self-sacrifice ” which she had decided 
to lead. But then self-sacrifice in a prominent 
place and appropriately labeled, so that the world 
may know what it is, is a very different thing from 
a self which must be sacrificed so completely as to 
attract no attention whatever. Kitty hated her 
own selfishness, now that she saw it, but she shrank 
from the path which unselfishness, and even com- 
mon honesty, pointed out. Her grandfather waited 
in vain for her company at dinner that day, and at 
last, with a patient little sigh, sat down to his 
solitary meal, though, indeed, he had found her 
company quite as disappointing as her absence. 
Deb muttered to herself, though she kept the 
coffee hot for an hour or two. 

It was late when Kitty came in, and she did not 
appear in the kitchen until supper-time. At the 
table she greeted Pete with an unexpected question : 


FUNDAMENTALS. 


127 


“The teacher is going away from the school 
here, I understand ; do you think I had better take 
her place ?” 

Petra looked up with a flash of pleasure and 
surprise and drew a long breath, as if a burden had 
been suddenly lifted. 

“ Oh, Kitty, if you only would !” she said, in a 
tone of relief that spoke volumes. 

“ Now, that’s what I call sensible,” exclaimed 
Dick, in a burst of admiration. “ Only,” he added, 
doubtfully, after a moment’s pause, “ you’ll have to 
be quick about it, and smart too, for I heard to-day 
that Mary Jane Griggs meant to try for it.” 

“ Who is Mary Jane Griggs ?” inquired Kitty. 

“Oh, she’s a girl that lives down the road a 
ways; her father’s a farmer. She used to come 
here to school, and all the teachers said she was 
smart. Nobody could come up to her in arithme- 
tic, and she was at the head of every class. She’s 
been two terms at the Ridgley Academy since then, 
too.” 

Kitty smiled complacently; she surmised, and 
very correctly, that Miss Griggs had never even 
imagined such a seminary as the one whose di- 
ploma reposed in the rosewood writing-desk up 
stairs. She adopted Dick’s advice in regard to 


128 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


promptness, however, and the next morning, armed 
with the minister’s note and the blue-ribboned 
document from the seminary, she presented herself 
to Mr. Barton. That worthy man was in his store 
— a small one adjoining his residence — and when 
he understood his caller’s errand, he laughed : 

“ Walk right through into the house, won’t you, 
and I’ll be there in a minute. Never rains but it 
pours. There’s another in there now.” 

What the last sentence signified Kitty did not un- 
derstand until she was fairly in the sunny sitting- 
room and had discovered a bright-eyed, freckled- 
faced girl sitting stiffly erect in shawl and hat. 
Kitty noticed the green dress of exactly the wrong 
shade for the dubious complexion, the red hands 
withdrawn from the woolen gloves, and decided 
that this must be Miss Griggs. There was no one 
else in the room, and, as the silence was evidently 
growing a trifle awkward to her vis-d-vis , she said 
pleasantly, 

“ I wonder if we are both on the same errand ?” 

“ Maybe we are. I’m after the school,” answer- 
ed Mary Jane, frankly. 

Mary Jane did not need to question who Kitty 
was ; she knew her as did every one else in the vil- 
lage, but the possibility of a rival in the new-comer 


FUNDAMENTALS. 


129 


had not before occurred to her. She felt the power 
— such things have power — of the tasteful toilet 
opposite her, and of Kitty’s easy manner. The 
red hands grasped the gloves a little nervously, 
but the mouth only settled into firmer lines. Miss 
Griggs was not one easily to give up what she had 
once undertaken. 

Mr. Barton had disposed of his solitary cus- 
tomer, and came in rubbing his hands : 

“Well, as there’s two of you, we’ll just have to 
have a little test. I reckon that’ll be the fair way. 
Don’t you think so ?” he questioned, taking paper 
and pens from an old secretary in one corner. 

Kitty handed him her diploma and Mr. Barton 
looked over it through his steel-bowed glasses, but 
it did not appear to make quite the impression she 
had expected. In fact, he owned that he was “ not 
just up to a good many such things.” 

“ But it isn’t so much matter, because what w r e 
want here chiefly is the fundamentals,” he added, 
with a good-natured laugh, “and I’m some on 
geography and ’rithmetic yet, if I have been out of 
school a good many years.” 

Mr. Barton was ; Kitty was ready to acknowl- 
edge it before she had done puzzling her brain over 
the first half dozen questions. She was quite able 


130 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


to believe his statement that he “ always liked to 
have an atlas handy, to hunt up new places ” men- 
tioned in his reading, and it seemed to her that his 
reading must have been principally in the direction 
of unknown countries. She wrote what answers 
she could — many of them were only guesses — and 
stole frequent glances at the girl on the opposite 
side of the table. The light brows were occasion- 
ally drawn together in a perplexed frown, but now 
and then there was a little triumphant nod of the 
head that told its own story as the red hand raced 
over the paper. 

The “few sums in ’rithmetic,” as Mr. Barton 
styled his examination in mathematics, was even 
worse than the geography. This village store- 
keeper, with his careless pronunciation and his fre- 
quent lapses in grammar, was a natural mathema- 
tician, and Kitty, who had supposed that the fact 
that she had studied various branches unknown to 
the village curriculum would readily establish her 
claim, was dismayed by this appeal to “ fundamen- 
tals.” Her face grew hot and her head confused. 
She could not remember rules or tables — such com- 
monplace matters had been early crowded out of 
the seminary course — and she was aware that she 
was making a miserable failure. But as for the girl 


FUNDAMENTALS. 


131 


in green, her foot seemed on her native heath ; she 
entered upon the bewildering combinations of num- 
bers with a zest that showed she felt herself to be 
mistress of the situation. 

The position of teacher in the village school was 
a prize eagerly to strive for, Kitty discovered, in- 
stead of a doubtful good that might be accepted 
with martyr-like resignation. At the same time 
she reached the further knowledge that Miss 
Griggs was the successful candidate. 

“ I’ve no doubt you know a good deal about 
higher branches and no end of new studies, Miss 
Wilder, and could teach the children plenty of 
things it would do ’em good to know — not a bit 
of doubt about it,” said Mr. Barton, announcing 
his decision apologetically — “ but it’s mostly funda- 
mentals we’re concerned about here, as I said, and, 
seeing it’s been a fair trial, I’m bound to say Mary 
Jane’s come out ahead.” 

Whatever words the story was put into, it was 
the same story, after all ; and when Kitty told it 
at home in her own way, since it must needs be 
told, she felt in her inmost soul that the impres- 
sion conveyed was exactly that embodied in the 
storekeeper’s brief statement: “Mary Jane’s come 
out ahead.” 


132 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ They’re going to want a new teacher out at the 
cross-roads school in a couple of weeks, but it’s a 
smaller school, a mile away, and likely there’ll be 
somebody else after that too,” said Dick, doubt- 
fully. 

Petra said nothing. Neither did Kitty, but she 
shut her lips very closely together ; and when she 
went up to her room, she pulled out her trunk from 
its corner and dived to the bottom of it in search 
of some long-unused books. For the next two 
weeks the correspondence with Angie Bates lan- 
guished and the gilt-edged journal was neglected, 
while maps and columns of figures received un- 
divided attention. At the end of that time Kitty 
laid siege to the citadel of learning at the cross- 
roads, and captured it. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A NEW EXPERIENCE. 

rpHE gay waltz dropped into a slower, softer 
measure that in turn lost itself in the plaint- 
ive notes of an old ballad, and then Barbara 
pushed away her music and turned from the piano. 
She wandered through beautiful rooms into the con- 
servatory beyond, with its wealth of blossoms, and 
back again, pausing by a window that overlooked 
the grounds, white and cold now in their winter 
dress. She did not quite know what to do with 
herself or with her time that afternoon. Freedom, 
luxury and leisure are sweet, but, like other sweets, 
one may have a surfeit of them. Now that the 
wedding-journey and the receptions were over and 
they were settled at home, Colonel Holland had 
gone back to business, but Barbara had no busi- 
ness, and time began to hang a little heavily on 
her hands. The planning and the contriving to 

make something out of nothing which had been 

133 


134 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


never-failing employment at Aunt Cass’s were un- 
necessary here. With the thought of those old 
days there came to Barbara the remembrance of 
old dreams as well. How often when some gen- 
erous impulse was checked by those spectres of the 
house — economy and appearances — had she wished 
for wealth that she might help others! She had 
been sure that if Fortune ever smiled upon her as 
upon some others she would do a great deal of good 
with its gifts. 

How improbable had such a consummation 
seemed then — mere girlish castle-building ! Bar- 
bara smiled as she contrasted then and now, but 
the smile was more wistful than triumphant. She 
would like to do good, to put something real into 
her life, if she knew how. The thoughts that 
haunted her wedding-eve had never wholly van- 
ished, but had flitted in and out among the gay 
and busy days, and the quiet hour recalled them. 
There was money enough and time enough now, 
and of course there were those to whom she could 
do good if only she knew them. 

The postman’s ring at the door broke Barbara’s 
reverie and was followed by a servant bringing in 
some letters. Barbara glanced over them — one 
from Aunt Cass, three or four invitations, and 


A NEW EXPERIENCE. 


135 


one — Yes, that was an invitation also, but a 
peculiar one: 

“ The Ladies , Missionary Society of Grace 
Church holds its regular monthly meeting in the 
church parlors on Thursday afternoon at three 
o’clock. You are earnestly invited to be pres- 
ent.” 

“ Thursday ! That’s to-day,” said Barbara. 
She had an indistinct remembrance of having 
heard that notice before — read in the church, per- 
haps. She never paid much heed to church notices, 
and she thought it strange that any one should take 
the trouble to write it on cards and send it around 
to houses, but this might be the fashion here. 
She remembered that the church was of a different 
denomination from that which Aunt Cass attended, 
and that her aunt had sweetly remarked concerning 
the change, “ One mustn’t be bigoted in religious 
matters.” Poor Aunt Cass ! Colonel Holland’s 
wealth would have inclined her to “ liberality” 
toward a Jewish synagogue or a Mohammedan 
mosque. 

Again the memory of old days recalled the 
thoughts which the mail had for a few moments 
interrupted, and Barbara reread more carefully the 
card she still held. Missionary society : that might 


136 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


be about relieving want and suffering somewhere. 
It might possibly help her in what she wanted to 
know, and in any case it was something to do and 
something new. 

So it happened that a little late and with an 
added sensation of being out of place, Mrs. Hol- 
land slipped into the missionary meeting that after- 
noon. The room was comfortably filled and some 
one was reading when she entered, but a lady 
quietly moved aside and motioned her to a seat. 

The Bible words fell upon Barbara’s ears with- 
out arresting her attention while she furtively 
scanned the faces about her — bright, earnest, re- 
fined faces that assured her she was in no unworthy 
company. She wondered how that lady could 
venture to lead the others in prayer, but then the 
one who was called upon was a stately, silver-haired 
old lady who was probably quite used to being a 
leader in many ways. But the next voice heard 
was almost girlish in its freshness, and it was read- 
ing a paper on the women of Syria — their life and 
customs. As vivid description and incident follow- 
ed each other, Barbara watched the reader with 
wondering admiration for her knowledge of this 
far-away land, its people and their needs. She 
found that others of the circle were familiar with 


A NEW EXPERIENCE. 


137 


these things also, as remarks, questions and letters 
showed. They knew the various mission stations, 
knew w r here schools had been established and were 
acquainted with the teachers by name. 

Barbara grew deeply interested, and would have 
liked to ask some questions herself if she had 
felt sufficiently at home and had not disliked to 
betray her ignorance where others seemed so in- 
telligent. She had gained considerable information, 
however, before the meeting closed, and w^as able 
to join in the offering with some understanding of 
where it was to go and in what work it would aid. 
She had determined to come to the next meeting 
even before receiving the cordial invitation, which 
came promptly from two or three sources as the 
assembly broke into little groups preparatory to 
dispersal. 

“We are glad to have you here to-day, Mrs. 
Holland,” said the pleasant voice of the president, 
a lady with whom Barbara was slightly acquainted. 
“ Come again.” 

“ I mean # to do so,” answered Barbara, frankly. 
“I have enjoyed it.” 

“ Ah, but we want more than that : we want you 
to help make it enjoyable to others. Will you not 
prepare one of the papers for next month ?” 


138 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“I?” Barbara caught her breath in astonish- 
ment. * “ I am such a stranger yet, Mrs. Ellis.” 

“ That is just the reason — one reason, at least,” 
said the president, with a little emphatic nod of 
her head which seemed to say that she knew exact- 
ly what she wanted and was accustomed to having 
it. “ New workers make variety ; they bring in 
new life and thought, and we do not want to fall 
into ruts.” 

“But I do not know about — about all these 
things,” hesitated Barbara. 

“ None of us know until we study about them ; 
you can do that. The next topic is our American 
Indians. We take up the work abroad and at 
home on alternate months, and you will find it not 
a difficult but a very pleasant task to learn about 
our schools and our teachers there. I beg your 
pardon, Mrs.. Holland. I do not mean to press 
my request against your wish, but we would really 
be glad of your aid.” 

Mrs. Ellis was a wise woman. She wanted Mrs. 
Holland’s aid, indeed, but still more she wanted to 
aid her. She thought she had not mistaken the 
earnest, attentive face that she had watched that 
day, and she knew that the surest way for this 
young stranger to grow interested, thoroughly to 


A NEW EXPERIENCE. 


139 


identify herself with the church and become useful 
in it, was to begin to take part in its work. No 
one would have dreamed of calling Mrs. Ellis “ a 
watchman upon the walls of Zion,” but she was 
one nevertheless, and used her eyes, her voice and 
her social influence to discover and to reach many 
people of whom others did not think. 

Barbara promised the paper. She was not un- 
willing, though she laughed at herself, as she rode 
homeward, over the novelty of the task she had 
undertaken. She had been deeply interested. The 
earnestness of those about her, the story of brave 
work and cheerful sacrifice from those far-off mis- 
sion stations, was all so unlike the life which had 
always surrounded Barbara that it seemed like 
breathing a new atmosphere when she herself 
began to take a share in it. 

When Barbara again entered the rooms she had 
left an hour or two before, they were no longer un- 
occupied. Sitting in the glow of the firelight, 
knitting in hand, was the grave-faced, plain old 
mother-in-law. For several reasons the acquaint- 
ance between these two had not progressed very 
rapidly. The elder lady spent much of her time 
in her own room, and for Barbara there had been 
through the first weeks so much coming and going, 


140 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


receptions, calls and a whirl of new pleasures and 
excitements, that there had been room for little 
else. Then, too, though she would not willingly 
have confessed it, she had felt a slight fear of this 
woman of whose peculiarities she had heard so much, 
and she had been timid about making the advances 
that had been so easy to plan while at a distance. 
Yet there was nothing either to intimidate or to 
repel in the slight figure with smooth gray hair and 
busy hands sitting so quietly by the fireside. It 
made, instead, such a home-like picture that Bar- 
bara’s heart — a kind one, only starved so long — 
warmed toward it. 

“ Don’t go,” she said, as the old lady made a 
movement to rise. u You have your work ; why 
not sit with me? I have these pleasant rooms all 
to myself quite too often.” 

“ Do you ?” A faint smile flitted over the worn 
face, and the mother settled back in her chair again. 
“ I like this fire,” she explained. “ Bradley had a 
fancy that nothing was so nice for an open fire as 
a wide old-fashioned fireplace, and so he had one 
put in here.” 

“ I am glad of it,” said Barbara, heartily. She 
was mentally contrasting the luxurious blaze with 
Aunt Cass’s tiny grates, arranged, as a servant 


A NEW EXPERIENCE . 


141 


once contemptuously observed, to “ hold just a pint 
of coal.” 

“ Maria couldn’t see any use in it with the house 
heated all over by the furnace, but I like it,” re- 
peated the old lady, with dreamy gaze bent upon 
the dancing flame. “ It seems like old times.” 

“ Only the old-time fireplaces were a necessity 
instead of a luxury,” said Barbara, and repented 
the words as soon as spoken, for over the worn face 
fell a shadow as the eyes wandered from the fire 
around the handsome apartment. 

“Yes,” with a sigh; “they did not light rooms 
like this. Mine did not. It was a very plain little 
home, but those were happy days.” 

“ Who knows what losses and what sorrows 
since have made the olden days seem better than 
these?” thought Barbara, touched by the sadness 
of the tone. It awakened again her desire to com- 
fort and to win back to enjoyment this life so mys- 
teriously clouded, and she hastily sought a safer 
topic of conversation : 

“ I have been in a new place, for me, this after- 
noon, but I found it very interesting. A mission- 
ary meeting.” 

“ A missionary — I beg your pardon, my dear ; 
I did not quite understand. Did you say a mis- 


142 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


sionary meeting ? I did not know that you cared 
for such things.” 

There was a suddenness of look and tone that 
startled Barbara, but she answered smilingly: 

“ I did not know it, either ; I do not think I 
knew anything about them until to-day. But I 
was interested. I surely must have been, or I 
shouldn’t have promised to write a paper for the 
next meeting. I can scarcely understand yet how 
I came to do that.” 

Barbara laughed again at the recollection, but 
once more there flashed over the faded face opposite 
her that eager, intent expression, as if its owner 
were listening for some long-expected tidings. It 
could not be her own commonplace story of a 
woman’s meeting that brought it, Barbara thought, 
wonderingly, but she talked on because she scarcely 
knew what else to do, and her hearer was so atten- 
tive and questioned so intelligently that she soon 
found herself giving an animated account of what 
she had heard. She had gained considerable infor- 
mation, and the unfamiliar story of urgent need 
and brave work still thrilled her. She forgot, dur- 
ing that pleasant talk, that there was anything un- 
usual about her mother-in-law, except that she 
found her an unusually sympathetic and agreeable 


A NEW EXPERIENCE. 


143 


companion, but she was reminded of her peculiari- 
ties a little later. 

The old lady had gone to her room, but pres- 
ently came down again and quietly slipped a roll 
of bills into Barbara’s hand : 

“ I too want to help that work ; I am glad you 
told me about it. Here is something to give when 
you go again.”' 

Barbara’s one quick glance showed her that it 
was no small sum she held, and she looked up in 
surprise : 

“Why, mother,” hesitating over the unaccus- 
tomed name, “ this is a very generous gift.” 

“Oh no, not that — not generous!” The old 
lady repelled the word as if it stung her. “ The 
money is not mine, my dear ; it belongs to — to 
some one else,” she explained, with a faint flush 
creeping over her cheek. “The only use I can 
make of it — have any right to make of it — is to 
give it where it will relieve want and suffering. 
It is not generosity ; it is only a poor attempt at 
justice. Do not give it as from me.” 

So sad, deprecating, almost self-accusing, were 
words and tone that there was nothing more to be 
said; but Barbara, left alone, looked down upon 
the money in wonder and perplexity. 


144 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


The elder lady passed slowly up to her own 
room again, and when she had closed the door 
stood still. 

“ O God, it might be !” she whispered. “ Thy 
thoughts are not our thoughts nor thy ways our 
ways. If this should be the first sign of thy com- 
ing answer to the prayers of all the years — the ris- 
ing of the little cloud no bigger than a man’s hand 
— help me to be not faithless, but believing.” 

Encouraged by one success, the young wife tried 
that evening to tell her husband of her afternoon’s 
experience. He listened indulgently, smiled at her 
enthusiasm — which he evidently considered very 
youthful — covertly yawned a little, and said, 
u I am glad you enjoyed yourself.” 

Colonel Holland entirely approved of his wife 
writing papers for that or for any other eminently 
respectable society. He had a fancy that Barbara 
could be quite brilliant in that line, and he was not 
unwilling that other people should discover it ; but 
when she told of his mother’s gift and of her re- 
marks concerning it, his face wore an expression 
that Barbara could not read, and he was silent. 

“ And shall I give it as she wished, Bradley ?” 
asked Barbara, timidly. “ I am not used to her 
yet, you know, and you must tell me what to do. 


A NEW EXPERIENCE. 


145 


Is it right for me to do as she wishes about such 
things ?” 

“ Certainly. The money is her own, whatever 
she says about it, and she has a right to spend it 
as she chooses. We can only let her have her own 
way and gratify her as far as possible. I only 
wish, for your sake, that she were not quite so — 
peculiar.” 

“ Oh, I think we are going to get on nicely to- 
gether,” said Barbara, brightly, remembering the 
afternoon and relieved by the knowledge that there 
were no complications in the way of fulfilling her 
pleasant commission. 

Often, however, while Barbara studied the topic 
upon which she had promised to write — a study 
that opened a new world of thought and possessed 
limitless ramifications — her mind wandered for a 
moment to her mother-in-law’s gift, and she ques- 
tioned what strange vagary possessed her. One 
thing was sure : she was not, as Barbara had some- 
times heard, a miser, and that, at least, was a com- 
fort. At the next meeting the roll of bills, slipped 
into a plain unmarked envelope, was dropped un- 
observed into the mission-box. 


10 


CHAPTER IX. 

“ WHOSE IMA GE AND SUPERSCRIPTION IS THISr 

"DARBARA’S world was growing real wonder- 
fully fast in those days that followed. To 
begin with, the study she had undertaken intro- 
duced her to people, motives and aims that were 
entirely new to her. She had previously heard of 
missionaries but rarely, and her knowledge of them 
had been very vague. It had never occurred to her 
that they were people of like passions with herself. 
She had classed them with martyrs and confessors, 
prayer-book and liturgy — something exceedingly 
religious and sacred and having no connection 
with secular life, least of all with her life — until 
that afternoon meeting ; but now, as she read of 
schools established on the frontier, in the far North 
and in the South, of the army of teachers giving 
their bright young womanhood to this work, going 
bravely from prospects and surroundings as fair as 
her own to hold these isolated posts, the marvel of 
it all grew upon her, and she found herself often 

146 


WHOSE IMAGE IS THISr 


147 


pausing to question and to ponder. These were 
every-day womanly women who enjoyed music, 
pictures, pretty homes and social life. Their very 
letters from these lonely schools were full of little 
common things — of pleasure over new desks and 
new books, of the busy care of teaching girls to 
sew and to cook as well as of teaching them to 
read the Bible. Yet they wrote cheerfully and as 
if their whole heart, was in their w T ork. Why 
had they undertaken it? It must be that their 
faith meant to them what it did to Jeanette — not 
merely forms and opinions, but something real and 
vital. Life was no show, no “ keeping up appear- 
ances, with these people : it was real and intense- 
ly earnest. The things which Barbara had been 
taught to consider of supreme importance were the 
very things they had renounced. 

These were new lessons in perspective. The far 
and the near, the great and the small, seemed 
changing places and values. It was like Barbara 
not to be content with simply gathering sufficient 
material for her paper, butrto inform herself fully. 
Her studies, like her clothes and her pleasures, had 
so often been cramped by the requirement of mak- 
ing the most show for the least expense that 
thoroughness now was a luxury. It was a part 


148 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


of the “ being real through and through” that 
she had coveted. 

Real also were the suffering, ignorance and need 
that were thus brought to Barbara’s knowledge. 

“ There seems no end to it,” she said one day, 
turning from the books and the papers that had 
busied her. 

“No end to what?” asked her mother-in-law 
from her seat by the fireside — a place which of 
late she was coming to accept more frequently. 

“ To the hungry world,” answered Barbara, half 
laughing, yet with a troubled earnestness in her 
voice. “ It is large and so hungry ! Here is a 
view of it from the South.” She read an extract 
she had selected. “And here is something from 
the West. Of course,” she added, after a moment’s 
pause, “ a great deal of the suffering is due to idle- 
ness and vice — especially intemperance — but I sup- 
pose even that fact doesn’t quite relieve happier 
people of all responsibility.” 

The face that had been turned toward Barbara 
with an expression of keen interest suddenly 
changed. A look of anguish swept over it, the 
hands that held the knitting trembled, the white 
lips quivered, and, as if unable to speak, the old 
lady arose and left the room. 


WHOSE IMAGE IS THIS?” 


149 


“ Whew !” whistled Laurence, softly, from his 
nook in the window-seat. “ Now grandma’s 
killed, sure enough.” 

“ What is it ?” cried Barbara, in distress. 
“ What did I say, Laurence ?” 

“ Nothing. That is — Well, it wasn’t just 
what you said,” hesitated the boy, half amused, 
half sympathetic, but embarrassed when he tried 
to explain. “You see, she was so interested in 
what you read, and then when you said that about 
intemperance — as if that were at the bottom of it 
all — why, I suppose she felt as if she and the rest 
of us were to blame for all the misery. She al- 
ways does think that way.” 

“ But why should she ? Why about intemper- 
ance more than about anything else ?” questioned 
Barbara. 

“ Oh, I don’t know. Yes, I do, too. She’s set 
against distilleries and importing, and everything 
that has anything to do with liquor. But I 
wouldn’t worry about it,” he added, . consolingly, 
as he looked into the troubled face before him. 
“ It is only one of grandma’s notions, you know, 
and nobody minds.” 

Laurence rather liked his young stepmother, 
despite his previous fears that he would not. The 


150 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


house seemed brighter for her coming, and “she 
lets a fellow alone and never bothers him,” he con- 
fided to a schoolmate. That, indeed, was the only- 
course she had thought of pursuing. It had not 
occurred to her that any other was possible or desir- 
able until one day very recently, when Mrs. Ellis 
had unexpectedly included her in a little circle of 
ladies who were discussing the difficulty of provid- 
ing home-amusement for the young people of their 
families. 

“ This is a subject that interests you also, Mrs. 
Holland, now that you have a son to watch over? 
What a bright, manly boy Laurence is !” 

Barbara had been too much astonished to reply, 
but since then she had found herself wondering, 
whenever she saw Laurence, what sort of watch 
she was expected to keep. His merry boyish ways 
amused her. When he had once or twice acted 
as her guide to some unfamiliar part of the city, 
she had found him very pleasant company. She 
was proud of him as her husband’s son, but as hers 
— one to be influenced, guided, watched over — that 
was a responsibility from which she shrank. 

Just now, however, it was not the boy, but his 
grandmother, that awakened Barbara’s solicitude 
and perplexity. Laurence’s attempted explana- 


WHOSE IMAGE IS THIS?” 


151 


tion afforded her no enlightenment. The sudden 
distress her words had occasioned seemed unac- 
countable. She reviewed her remark in every pos- 
sible light, and could see nothing in it to wound or 
to offend, yet she could not fully satisfy herself by 
accepting Laurence’s comforting statement that it 
was “ only one of grandma’s notions.” It was a 
relief when the worn face appeared at dinner, a 
little paler than usual, perhaps, but wearing its 
wonted quietness. 

Barbara had arrived at the decision that the 
mission work and meetings were a topic that must 
thereafter be carefully avoided, but a day or two 
later she was startled out of this position by an 
unexpected proposal. 

“ Are you going to one of those meetings this 
afternoon?” asked the old lady, with the slight 
hesitancy of one not quite sure that what she 
wished to say would be agreeable. “I think I 
should like to go too, if — if you do not mind tak- 
ing me with you.” 

“ I’ll be delighted to have you go. It will be 
much pleasanter than going alone,” answered Bar- 
bara, heartily. She was glad the next moment that 
she had spoken on that first warm impulse, for a 
sober second thought suggested several objections 


152 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


that must have made her reply either less cordial 
or less truthful. 

The elder lady’s face had brightened at the tone, 
but she still hesitated. 

“ Would you mind taking the street-car?” she 
asked, with a faint flush coming to her cheek. 

“ Certainly not, if you prefer going in that way,” 
agreed Barbara, pleasantly. She did not object to 
the car — it was a more familiar acquaintance than 
her own carriage, she reflected, with a smile — but 
why the request? And what if some report of 
destitution or wretchedness should call forth again 
that strange outburst of feeling where it would 
attract the attention of all those ladies? Who 
could tell what oddities of dress or of demeanor 
might cause remark and make her companion a 
very unpleasant one ? 

A host of disagreeable possibilities suggested 
themselves, and Barbara’s uneasiness increased with 
her ponderings; but when the hour came, there 
was nothing in the soft plain dress, perfect in every 
detail, to oflend her most fastidious taste, and the 
quiet face, with its gentle gravity, did not look in 
the least like that of one ruled by vagaries or like- 
ly to transgress any rules of decorum. Long be- 
fore the meeting was over Barbara had forgotten 


WHOSE IMAGE IS THIS?” 


153 


her fears, and she experienced a curious sense of 
satisfaction in introducing to her new friends such 
a very presentable mother-in-law, and in noting, 
as her keen eyes were quick to do, the favorable 
impression created. Doubtless not a little surprise 
mingled with the respectful greeting of many, but 
the quiet gray-haired lady so intelligently inter- 
ested in all that she saw and heard did not appear 
to be a very distressing family skeleton, whatever 
rumor had whispered. 

Colonel Holland’s astonishment and pleasure 
when he heard of the afternoon’s outing delighted 
his wife : 

“Why, Barbara, what sorcery are you using? 
Mother seldom sat anywhere but in her own room 
before you came — at least, that is my impression,” 
checking himself with a swift recollection that his 
knowledge of home-affairs had been limited. “And, 
as for her going out anywhere with Maria, such a 
thing was unknown. You are working wonders.” 

“ She will go with me again,” said Barbara, de- 
termined and triumphant ; “ I am sure she will. 
Really, Bradley, I can scarcely understand how 
her slight peculiarities have been so exaggerated. 
She has grown somewhat morbid, perhaps, with 
being so much alone, and elderly people are apt to 


154 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


have their crotchets, I suppose, and to cling to old- 
fashioned ways. I think that is all, and I mean to 
make her life so bright that she will forget every- 
thing gloomy and singular.” 

The loving prophecy ought to have won grate- 
ful appreciation, hut Colonel Holland was gazing 
rather moodily into the fire, and answered by 
neither word nor look. It was only when his wife 
added, after a moment’s pause, “ I like her,” that 
he said with sudden vehemence, as if stirred by 
some old memory, 

“You well may — not only like her, but also 
love her. A better mother never lived.” 

But Barbara’s plans for changing the existing 
order of things and skillfully bringing new inter- 
ests and attractions to bear on this long-secluded 
life were all set aside by a slight accident — one of 
those unexpected happenings by which Providence 
so often substitutes other ways for our own. A 
misstep on the stairs one day as she was running 
lightly down resulted in a fall. 

“It is nothing — nothing of any consequence,” 
she assured Laurence and his grandmother as they 
hastened to her aid. “ I do not know how I ac- 
complished such a piece of awkwardness in safety, 
but I am not hurt,” she laughed ; and then, as she 


WHOSE IMAGE IS THIS?” 


155 


tried to rise to her feet, she sank back with a cry 
of pain and fainted. 

It was nothing worse than a badly-sprained 
ankle, the physician informed the anxious family, 
but that seemed quite bad enough, as it meant 
being a prisoner for weeks ; and Barbara sighed as 
she thought how many projects she had been form- 
ing that must now be put aside. But a new ex- 
perience awaited her. Mrs. Holland the elder — a 
retiring woman naturally and rendered still more so 
by the household life around her for years — had 
been a little in awe of her tall and stylish daugh- 
ter-in-law, but for the invalid all the motherly 
sympathy was awakened at once. She was one of 
those women who seem to know by instinct how to 
place a pillow or to arrange a bandage. She had, 
moreover, a store of expedients and experience, 
and Barbara found herself petted and waited 
upon in a way that was to her as new as it was 
delightful. 

“ You will spoil me ; I am not used to being a 
person of such consequence,” she laughed, though 
with a sudden mist over her eyes as some little 
tender office flashed into sharp contrast a few for- 
lorn days of illness in her girlhood. Aunt Cass 
had seen that proper remedies and nourishment 


156 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


were duly administered, but Barbara had been made 
to feel disapproval in the very atmosphere — a sug- 
gestion that her illness was probably due to some 
indiscretion on her part, and that in any case it was 
an expense and inconvenience for which she was 
responsible. She had never known much mother- 
ing, poor Barbara ! and her present experience 
was very agreeable to her. 

Mother Holland smiled at the threatened dan- 
ger, drew the lounge softly into a more comfortable 
angle with the blazing fire, and contentedly estab- 
lished herself, knitting in hand, where she could be 
ready to meet, if not to anticipate, the invalid’s 
wants. The possibility of rendering such services 
seemed, indeed, to have brought an unusual look 
of content to her face. 

“ Of course you could ring the bell for anything 
you need,” she said, apologetically, “ but that 
doesn’t half seem like being taken care of — at 
least, it doesn’t to me. Maybe it is because so 
much of my life was before we had any bell or any 
one to answer it if we had had one. I used to 
wait on my own sick ones ; it is more home-like. 
I am glad to have some one to take care of once 
more. Not that I wanted you to fall down stairs 
to humor me,” she added, with a little laugh which 


WHOSE IMAGE IS THIS?” 


157 


came so rarely that it always gladdened Barbara 
like a burst of sunshine. 

There was no sunshine out of doors that day — a 
gray afternoon with a slow, steady rain that made 
the pretty room, the dancing fire and the motherly 
figure beside it look like a picture of home comfort. 

" Tell me about those old days — the days before 
the bell and other modern improvements, I mean,” 
coaxed Barbara, moved by a sudden impulse. She 
was frightened at her own daring before the words 
were fairly spoken, but the elder lady’s face turned 
toward her with no trace of the shadow she had 
learned to dread : 

“ They were very simple old days, my dear, but 
I love to think of them. It was a plain little 
farmhouse — you can hardly think how plain — 
where I began housekeeping, but there never was 
a happier young wife. John and I went all over 
the house and farm — a rocky New England farm — 
and talked and planned about every corner. I can 
remember yet how I placed my six new chairs and 
my cherry table in the best room and stood off and 
looked at them, and then changed the position of 
each one and went back to the doorway to look 
again. When I had gathered some asparagus and 
hung it over the looking-glass — we didn’t have 


158 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


mirrors, you know — I thought I had given the 
finishing-touch to the room, and I was as proud as 
a queen. There was a bright new rag carpet on 
the floor ; I had cut the rags myself and paid for 
the weaving by braiding straw. It was several 

years before we had any other kind of a carpet, 

and then we planned a,nd saved a whole winter to 
get it. "VVe thought it a wonderful piece of ele- 
gance, I can tell you, and there were little feet to 

dance over it by that time. Yes, it took careful 
thought and hard work to provide for us all, but 
the talking and the planning held a deal of pleas- 
ure, and we prized things when we got them. A 
new bedstead or a new carpet did not mean to us 
just a choice at a store : it was a page of family his- 
tory.” 

“ I like that,” said Barbara, warmly ; “ I believe 
I could almost have enjoyed that sort of poverty — 
honest and self-respecting. It’s the poverty that is 
ashamed of itself and that is always trying to pre- 
tend it is something else that is hard. I hate 
shams.” 

The mother’s eyes, grown pensive with their 
backward glance, rested questioningly on the earn- 
est face for a moment, then swept the room with 
its costly appointments. 


WHOSE IMAGE IS THIS*” 


159 


Barbara misinterpreted the look : 

“You think I understand very little of the 
hardships of such a life as you describe ? But I 
do not think any amount of toiling and planning 
honestly to earn what one needs can be so wearing 
as constantly to be scheming and contriving to ap- 
pear to have what one has not. I think,” with a 
light laugh, “ that I have considerable capacity for 
enjoying honest wealth ; but if I cannot have that, 
I would rather have honest poverty. I want the 
genuine article, of one sort or the other.” 

Barbara’s thoughts had run back to her own 
past with its petty pinchings and its ignoble wor- 
ries, but those of her companion had taken a far 
different range, and the gaze — surprised, eager, 
questioning — that was suddenly bent upon Barbara 
startled her. The old lady had leaned forward in 
her chair, and her voice trembled in its earnestness : 

“ Do you feel so — you ? And I thought I could 
make no one see it as I do ! That is why I have 
had no part in it all these years : I could not use 
money not rightfully mine.” 

“Why, mother! Dear Mother Holland, how 
could you think of such a thing ?” exclaimed Bar- 
bara, in pained surprise. “ As if Bradley or I, or 
any one else, could for a moment think his mother 


160 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


had not a rightful share in all his wealth ! Who 
could have a better right? If that is all — ■” 

The gray head motioned a sad negative, and the 
faded eyes were full of tears : 

“It is not that. There may be children who 
could make a mother think of such a thing, but 
mine are not of that sort. And I am not one of 
those very independent women who cannot enjoy 
anything unless they have the title-deed to it in 
their own name. We always said ‘ours* in the 
old days on the farm, and I could always have felt 
it so since. I could have enjoyed riches if they had 
come honestly. I could have been proud of the 
( business enterprise and the commercial success ’ 
that the papers praise so often when they mention 
the name of my son if I had not known what was 
the dreadful foundation — shame and tears, ruined 
homes, ruined lives and lost souls.” 

Slowly the last words were spoken, with a sad 
deliberate emphasis, as if each one were weighed 
as it fell. 

Startled, Barbara had lifted her head from its 
pillow. Once speech and manner would only have 
alarmed her as the ravings of insanity, but this 
kindly, motherly woman, whom she was learning 
to know and to love, awakened a different feeling, 


WHOSE IMAGE IS THISV 


161 


a different fear. For one moment Barbara felt a 
cowardly inclination to let the subject drop and 
remain comfortably ignorant of any meaning the 
words might hold, but the next she reassured her- 
self with the thought that morbid fancy and iso- 
lated life had distorted some commonplace occur- 
rence. It must be so, indeed, and this might be 
her longed-for opportunity to reason away such 
imaginings and bring back to the old mother 
content and happiness : 

“I do not understand you. What foundation 
could there have been other than the ordinary gain 
of business, unless, perhaps, the extraordinary en- 
terprise and business talent of which the papers 
speak? Bradley has told me — At least, I un- 
derstood” — she corrected herself as she suddenly 
remembered how little he had told her — “ that his 
father left money.” 

“ So he did, and it has grown since as only such 
wealth can grow. Did you ever think what power 
there is in everything evil and hurtful to grow of 
itself? Weeds and brambles grow of themselves. 
That was not the way our crops grew on the farm ; 
they called for hard work and careful watching. The 
money they brought came slowly and hardly, too, 
but every dollar of it held a blessing. If only we 
11 


162 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


had been content ! But there were some poor years, 
of course, and there were the children to think of. 
It was natural and right, I suppose, that we should 
Want to give them a fair start and greater advan- 
tages than we had had, especially when the boys 
were getting old enough to begin to think of such 
things a little for themselves. We were talking 
about it one night out on the old porch, John and 
I, after the others had gone to bed. I shall always 
remember that night — how the moonlight threw the 
shadow of the vine-leaves on the floor, worn smooth 
by many scrubbings, and how a whippoorwill was 
calling from the grove on the hill. Not that I 
thought of that night then as any marked one in 
my life ; we scarcely ever know the turning-points 
till they are long gone by. We had been talking 
about getting along with the year’s work, and about 
doing this and that to make ends meet. All at once 
John said, 

“ ‘ Oh, I met Silas Gregg as I was coming home 
to-day, and he asked how I’d like to trade off the 
farm for a distillery. I was grumbling about the 
crops a little ; I suppose that was what made him 
think of it.’ 

Gregg’s distillery?’ I asked. ‘Is he really 
going to sell it?’ 


WHOSE IMAGE IS THISr 


163 


“ ‘ He wants to. He has done well with it, too, 
from all I can hear, but his uncle has been doing 
wonders out West and wants Silas to come there, 
and he has caught the Western fever and is try- 
ing to sell his place here.’ 

“ ‘ Why does he want ours, then ?’ I asked. 

“ ‘ Maybe he doesn’t; he only mentioned it/ said 
John. ‘ But he may think that if he cannot turn 
his property here into cash it might be safer to 
leave it in a farm than in property like the dis- 
tillery. If he rents that and it is not well man- 
aged, it may run down so that it will be almost 
worthless in a few years. A farm could hardly 
be used up in that way.’ 

“ That was the beginning. Silas Gregg was in 
earnest. He came again and persuaded John to go 
over and look at the distillery, and, as he showed 
his books and told how much he made, it seemed 
such a gain on the slow profits of the farm that the 
prospect was alluring. Then, too, John had a clear 
head, and he saw ways of turning things to greater 
advantage than even Silas had done, and so the 
matter was talked over and finally decided. I had 
not objected. I had not thought of the business 
to be undertaken as anything but an honest and 
respectable one, and, so far as I knew, no one in 


164 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


the village viewed Silas Gregg’s establishment as 
harmful or disreputable. It was years ago, you 
see ; the temperance reform had barely begun, and 
in our quiet nook we had heard almost nothing 
of it. Drunkenness, of course, was a vice to be 
avoided, but a moderate use of liquor was common 
in many of the families around us. I shrank from 
making the change, though. Woman-like, my 
heart clung to the old place, and, while I wanted 
to do what was best for my family, I could not 
help thinking of possible disadvantages in the new 
life. There were village-boys whom I often saw 
hanging about the store and the tavern whom I did 
not consider fit associates for my own boys, and I 
dreaded to take mine where they might fall into 
such companionship. 

“ ‘ They must keep away from such fellows/ said 
John, when I spoke of my fears to him. 1 Of 
course they can find bad company enough if they 
are willing to get into it or if we are foolish enough 
to let them. Silas Gregg says two of the hardest 
drinkers in the place are two young fellows not 
much but boys.’ 

“ John repeated the statement carelessly, as we 
so often mention such facts in regard to others. 
He did not think of it as in any way concerning 


WHOSE IMAGE IS THIS!” 


165 


us, but I, mother-like, began to brood over it and 
to reflect upon possible dangers to my own boys. If 
our removal to the village should be the means 
of throwing them into such associations and 
temptations, what compensation would money be ? 
What if I should live to see my sons become like 
those two of whom John had spoken? Then I 
turned my restless head on its pillow and tried to 
banish such visions. I called myself foolish and 
over-anxious. 

“ 1 Little danger of their becoming anything like 
that, when we never even have liquor in the house, 
common as it is around us/ I said, impatient of my 
own fancies. Then, suddeuly, as if some voice 
had spoken it, came the thought, ‘ Yes, yours will 
be safe and you can do a profitable business by 
making other mothers’ boys into drunkards. That 
is what distilleries are for.’ I could not sleep ; I 
could not shake off that thought, and it clung to 
me all the next day. 

“My husband talked cheerfully of our new 
plans and the children were full of anticipations, 
but I said little. I knew that the view of the 
matter which so troubled me would be ridiculed as 
morbid and unreasonable; I myself half believed 
it to be so, but I could not get rid of it. I tried 


166 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


to reason it down. I argued that the business we 
were undertaking was honest and right, and that 
we were not responsible for the abuse and the vices 
of others. It was useless; my eyes had been 
opened, and I could not reason myself back to my 
old standpoint. At last I could hold my peace no 
longer, and I told John what was troubling me. 
He laughed at me, reasoned with me, did every- 
thing but agree with me, and then, naturally enough, 
he grew impatient of what he considered mere non- 
sense. 

“ ‘ You are worried and overworked, Molly, or 
you never would have taken up such a notion/ he 
said. ‘ When you get fairly settled in the village 
and are rested, you will not see things in any such 
light. Any way, it is too late to repent now. The 
bargain with Silas is made, all but drawing up the 
papers, and it wouldn’t be honorable to break my 
word and disappoint him. I can see a great deal 
more wrong in that than in running a distillery, 
and so would most people. Even if I didn’t think 
it right to sell people liquor to drink, that would be 
no argument against owning a distillery. Liquor 
is used for other purposes than drink — for medi- 
cines and in a great many ways — and we are only 
going to make it ; we are not responsible for what 


WHOSE IMAGE IS THIS?” 


167 


anybody may do with it afterward. But there is 
no use in talking, Molly : it isn’t a case of con- 
science with you, it is only a case of dyspepsia and 
overwork ; and the sooner we leave here, the better 
it will be for you.’ 

“ I remember so well what John said, because 
it was often repeated not only by him, but also by 
myself, for I tried to believe it. But my eyes had 
been opened and would not close again. The more 
I studied the subject, the more I saw of the evil 
of intemperance, the ruin and woe that it brings. 

“ We went to the village, and the business pros- 
pered from the first. I do not know whether Satan 
always keeps his promise to give the kingdoms of 
the world and the glory of them to those whom he 
tempts into his service with that offer, but I do 
know that he has kept it with us. That is the 
story of the fortune that the newspapers ascribe to 
business enterprise. People said we were doing 
well ; John said so too, and comforts and luxuries 
came to our village home such as the little farm- 
house had never known. I liked all these things, 
of course, but I could not take the pleasure in them 
that I had felt in the old days. Still, everything 
prospered. The business grew, the distillery was 
enlarged, another one was built. 


168 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ One day I was out riding with an acquaintance. 
We had stopped for a minute at a store ; a woman 
came up to the carriage and asked for some money. 
She was ragged, dirty and had a red, bloated face 
that was anything but attractive, and we refused 
the gift she asked. As she was turning away I 
remarked to my friend that it would be no charity 
to place money in such hands. Low as my voice 
was, the woman caught the words and turned in an 
instant, her bleared eyes blazing, her whole form 
trembling, while she shook her fist at me : 

“ ‘ Ye’ll say that, will ye ? The likes of you ! 
What’s the matter with me hands only that they’re 
emptied of all they ought to hold to fill yours the 
fuller? Money and clothes, the bread out of me 
children’s mouths, their decent home and mother — 
yes, and their very souls, for aught I know — have 
gone into your old distillery. How long would it 
run if the likes of me didn’t feed it? There’s 
where your silks and laces, your fine house and 
carriage, come from, my lady. You to talk about 
charity ! The devil must laugh to hear ye. Sure, 
it would be no charity, but bare decent honesty, to 
give a little of the money you’re using back where 
it belongs — back to the children that’s been robbed, 
and the wives and the mothers. That’s where your 


(t WHOSE IMAGE IS THIS?” 


169 


finery comes from, and I wonder it don’t burn ye 
while ye wear it.’ 

“ It did. I felt a wild longing to get home and 
to put away out of my sight and remembrance 
every elegant article of dress I possessed. My 
friend said something about ‘ the impudence of the 
wretched creature/ but I knew that, whatever the 
woman might be, she had spoken the truth. From 
that time forward I shunned everything like dis- 
play and felt far more shame than pride in every 
luxury that came to my home. I could not con- 
vince my husband ; he said I had thought on that 
one subject until I had become a monomaniac. He 
had no sympathy with what he called my ‘ hobby.’ 
The boys, growing older and taking more and more 
interest in the business, naturally shared their 
father’s views. I ceased talking about it ; it was 
of no use. That was the evil it wrought in my 
family : we grew apart. Not in real affection and 
kindness, of course, but in our views, our interests, 
our sympathies. But if I could not talk, I prayed. 
Oh what years of prayer they have been ! and still 
there is no answer.” 

The gray head dropped upon the thin hands, but 
Barbara said nothing ; she had nothing to say even 
to herself out of her whirl of thoughts. 


170 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


In a moment the voice, a little broken, took up 
its story : 

“ Everything prospered; everything John touched 
turned to gold. I longed for reverses, losses — any- 
thing that would force him into another path — 
but there was only continued success. Then, one 
day, my husband dropped in the midst of it all — 
paralysis, the doctor said — and was brought to his 
home never to leave it again. For weeks he lay 
there, helpless, almost motionless, able to speak but 
little and very imperfectly, yet conscious, I was 
sure. His eyes followed me about the room, and 
sometimes smiled into mine in almost the dear old 
way, though the poor drawn lips could make little 
sign. There was time for thought in those weeks, 
and I am sure — yes, sure — that things looked dif- 
ferent to him then, and that he tried to tell me so. 
But it was hard to understand what the stiffened 
tongue tried to utter. I, who was with him all the 
time, and who learned to understand the broken 
words and the half-articulated sounds, know that 
he spoke of the old farm and regretted that he had 
left it. ‘ Sorry/ ‘ wrong / he spoke these words 
oftener than any other. And once, when Bradley 
was in the room, he fixed his eyes on him so earn- 
estly, as if he were struggling with all his soul to 


WHOSE IMAGE IS THIS P 


171 


tell him something, and said more plainly than 
anything else we had heard him speak, ‘ Give — up. 
Give — it — up.’ Yes, I knew what he meant, and 
it was some comfort to know that he saw it clearly 
at the last. But the others did not think so ; they 
attached no meaning to the fragmentary utterances 
and doubted whether he had retained any con- 
sciousness of his condition or his surroundings. 

“ By my husband’s will, executed months before, 
liberal provision was made for me, but it was all in 
the way of shares and interests inextricably bound 
up in the business. He could ‘ trust the boys to 
take care of mother and her property/ he said; 
and he was right: they have always been kind. 
I think it was because of my feeling against the 
business there that the boys invested in other en- 
terprises here and that Bradley removed here. 
Everything they have undertaken has prospered, 
but it is that money — that money with the mark 
of the beast upon it — that runs through it all. It 
seemed to me at first that I could not receive the 
share of it — the constantly increasing amount — 
that each year brings to me ; but to refuse it was 
only to put so much more capital back into the 
business I hate, and so I take it and try to return 
it, if not to the persons, at least to the class, to 


172 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


which it belongs — to the poor and ignorant and 
helpless, especially to those whom the liquor traf- 
fic has harmed or defrauded. I cannot share in 
the wealth and the luxury that have come to the 
family. I have tried to estimate what the old 
farm might have been worth if we had remained 
on it and had been tolerably prosperous until the 
time John died, and what my share of that, judi- 
ciously invested, might have become. So much as 
that I am willing to call my own, and on that — 
well, and some little extra I can earn — I live. 
The rest that comes to me I try to give back to 
the wretched and the miserable who are its right- 
ful owners. But how can a mother wash her 
hands of guilt that clings to those of her chil- 
dren? I have so waited, hoped and prayed for 
a better day to come, but it has been so long ! 
Oh, my boys ! my boys 


CHAPTER X. 

UNTO CAESAR— UNTO OOD. 

TN her own room Barbara leaned back in her 
easy-chair, her hands dropped idly in her lap, 
and a troubled look was in her eyes. She wished 
— it was cowardly, she knew, but in her first tumult 
of thought she did wish it — that she had been 
left in her ignorant content, that this story had 
never reached her. Far back in her life and so 
seldom recalled that it had been almost forgotten 
was something that sprang into startling vividness 
now. She remembered gazing with childish, won- 
dering eyes into a white, anguished face — her moth- 
er’s face ; of being caught up suddenly at the sound 
of a step, hurried into another room and the door 
closed and locked. She could feel the trembling 
of the arms that held her and the tumultuous beat- 
ing of the heart against which she hid her face in 
fright, while from the other room came sounds of 
overturned furniture, of heavy, unsteady steps, of 

an angry hand pounding on the closed door and a 

173 


174 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


voice thick with abuse and threatening demanding 
that it should be opened. She remembered, also, 
another day when men brought slowly into the 
house a rigid and motionless form : thrown by a 
runaway horse, they said. Afterward, when the 
same form, shrouded in white, lay in the darkened 
room, Aunt Cass had said — it was Barbara’s first 
distinct remembrance of Aunt Cass — that it was 
“ the best thing that could have happened.” But 
Barbara remembered that when she was lifted up 
to look for the last time at the still face a longing 
for the father who had played with her and carried 
her on his shoulder mingled strongly in her child- 
ish heart with a sense of relief that the folded hands 
never could strike again. There was another grave 
in a few short months : the broken-hearted mother 
was gone, and Barbara was left to Aunt Cass’s 
care. 

No one in all the years since had spoken to Bar- 
bara of this • first page of her life or had strength- 
ened its hold upon her by allusion or explanation. 
Aunt Cass disapproved of the liquor traffic — 
“ though not in any ill-bred or fanatical way, 
of course,” as she would have hastened to add — 
and that very decorous disapproval, supplemented 
by her dim memory of the past, constituted Bar- 


UNTO CJESA R — UNTO GOD. 


175 


bara’s education on the temperance question. But 
she knew, when she began to think of it now, 
that it was a question upon which she had a very 
decided opinion, and that it was this which had 
brought the first wild desire to escape from the 
new knowledge which had come to her. 

But, whatever knowledge is thrust upon us, we 
cannot unknow it at will, and Barbara, who had so 
determined to have done with all shams and to live 
a life that was “ real through and through,” would 
not really have chosen to remain ignorant, even 
though what she had learned cast a sudden shadow 
over all the brightness of her new home. Never 
before since she had been its mistress had she en- 
tered this room of hers without a keen appreciation 
of its prettiness, a luxurious sense of ownership in 
its dainty and perfect appointments, but now they 
oppressed her and hurt her. Were they all bought 
at such a fearful price ? Then she tried to shake 
off the weight that burdened her : 

“ How foolish I am ! Doubtless the story has 
quite another side, which Bradley will tell me as 
soon as I ask him, and will laugh at all my worry. 
Mother Holland may have brooded over that one 
thing that so troubled her at first until, as her hus- 
band said, she has become almost a monomaniac. 


176 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


Poor mother ! I understand it all now — the strange- 
ness over which people have wondered, and which 
they have so misrepresented. I will talk to Brad- 
ley about it ; if there is any distillery yet, he will 
make it all right, I am sure.” 

But talking with Colonel Holland on the subject 
was not quite so easy as Barbara had planned. He 
laughed at her, indeed, pitied her, said she had been 
imprisoned in the house with her lame foot until 
everything looked as distorted and out of propor- 
tion as the poor foot itself ; but he begged of her 
“ not to adopt mother’s hobby it “ wasn’t a com- 
fortable one,” and it wouldn’t “ carry double grace- 
fully.” Then, as Barbara persisted, he had an- 
swered more seriously, though with a touch of 
impatience : 

“ Beally, Barbara, I don’t see why you should 
bestow so much thought upon the matter. You 
know mother’s — peculiarities. There was a distil- 
lery, to be sure, and it was my father’s first business 
venture; that is equally true. But all that was 
years ago, and you must know that such an estab- 
lishment in a small village is a very insignificant 
item in all the merchandise, importing and other 
business which my brother and I carry on, and 
which has been, and is, the source of our wealth.” 


UNTO CAESAR — UNTO OOD. 


177 


“ Do you yet own the distillery ?” asked Barbara, 
after a moment’s pause. 

“Yes, but we would have sold it long ago — 
partly because of mother’s feeling about it, partly 
because we did not care to keep it — if mother had 
been willing. That’s the strangest part of it : she 
would not consent to our disposing of it. She has 
an interest in it, you know, and we could give no 
clear title without her consent.” 

“ I do not believe she fully understood you ; I’m 
sure she did not,” cried Barbara, eagerly. “ She 
so wants to be rid of it all that I think such an 
offer would delight her. Will you do it still, 
Bradley? May I tell her? Oh, I think it would 
take away this burden that has troubled her for 
years.” 

But Colonel Holland did not share his wife’s 
hopefulness. There was a moment’s silence, and 
then his answer came slowly and with some appar- 
ent constraint : 

“ Of course you may tell her, my dear, but I do 
not think you quite comprehend how morbid she is 
on that subject. All you can say will not make 
any difference.” 

Colonel Holland’s faithlessness did not dishearten 

Barbara. She seized the first quiet hour with her 
12 


178 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


mother-in-law the next day to repeat the conversa- 
tion and her message. The sad eyes met hers ten- 
derly, but they did not brighten : 

“ No, dear. I know how it seems to you at first 
glance, but I have thought of it so long, you see, 
that I have studied it from all sides. There are 
many other enterprises now, but the money that 
made them possible came from there. The stream 
has grown wide since, but that does not change the 
fountain. And that is not all : the ships from over 
the sea bring liquor, the great warehouses store it. 
There is much other business, indeed, but the poi- 
son runs through in many ways. No, I did not 
care to have the distillery sold ; it would only bring 
so much more cankered gold to go into something 
else, and the dreadful manufacturing would still 
be carried on with no whit of the stain or the 
responsibility removed from us, except, perhaps, to 
blinded human eyes. Besides, it may be — it’s been 
so long, but still I pray and hope — that a change 
will come some time; and if the distillery goes 
out of our hands the power of stopping its work 
goes also. I do not want it sold ; I want it de- 
stroyed.” 

Barbara had nothing to urge. What a tangle it 
all was, this web which in her girlish ignorance she 


UNTO CJESAR — UNTO GOD. 


179 


had thought to straighten so easily ! Her husband 
did not inquire the result of her effort — it is possi- 
ble that he did not care to renew conversation upon 
that topic — but she told him, and then, as he was 
silent, she suggested rather timidly, 

“ Bradley, you could afford to destroy that old — 
mill?” 

“ And several more as valuable, I suppose, if by 
( afford ’ you mean doing it without serious embar- 
rassment financially. But what would be the use ? 
My mother has some absurd notions that have 
grown stronger with her years, as old people’s 
notions are apt to do, and the best way to make 
her comfortable, as we can’t entirely overturn the 
world, is to fix her mind on something else and 
not discuss such topics with her. And now, my 
dear, do drop business and cease to bother your 
brains with trying to understand about its ins and 
its outs. I’ll attend to that part, and you shall 
have the results. Isn’t that a fair division of 
labor? The world of trade is just as real as any 
other — rather more real to most of us, in fact — 
but it isn’t conducted on New- Jerusalem principles, 
as good old ladies like my mother and transcenden- 
talists like John Kent think it ought to be. I real- 
ly cannot help that. But if you are going to de- 


180 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


velop any such morbid sentimentality, I shall drop 
everything at once and take you to Europe.” 

Half in jest, half in earnest, the words were, 
but with a certain decision underlying them all 
which made Barbara feel the uselessness of fur- 
ther argument or remonstrance. 

“ Who is John Kent ?” she asked, presently, less 
from curiosity than to break the awkward silence. 

“A distant relative — second or third cousin. 
His father had some small interest in my father’s 
venture when we moved from the farm to the vil- 
lage, but he died while John was a little fellow. 
When John grew up, he found that what his father 
had invested was so entangled in the business that 
he couldn’t get it ‘ unspotted,’ as he called it, and 
he washed his hands of all of it. I don’t know 
where he is now — in some country-place, probably, 
poor as poverty and preaching his impracticable 
goodness to people as poor as himself.” 

Tone and words jarred, but Barbara made no 
comment. The sweet cup so lately raised to her 
lips held its drops of bitterness, after all. 

With that day the glamour of Barbara’s new 
possessions disappeared. Aunt Cass, who came 
for a long visit and noted with the keen eyes of 
an appraiser all the elegance about her, secretly 


UNTO CAESAR — UNTO GOD. 


181 


wondered that Barbara should so soon have famil- 
iarized herself with luxury as to evince not the 
slightest sign of elation even while she gratified 
to the utmost her aunt’s desire to see and to 
enjoy. 

“ One would think the girl had been accustomed 
to such lavishness all her life, and found it a trifle 
wearisome rather than otherwise,” the aunt com- 
mented to herself. “If she had only developed 
such simplicity of taste while I had to provide 
for her — However, we couldn’t have afforded 
it, for every one would have suspected that it 
was a matter of necessity, and not of choice. 
But Mrs. Colonel Holland is wealthy enough to 
do as she chooses, and I must say her simple style 
is very becoming to her. It has an aristocratic 
old-family air about it, and anything is better 
than a suggestion of vulgar newness. Well, no 
one can say that I haven’t done well by Barbara,” 
she concluded, complacently. “ It is not probable 
that her own mother would have secured for her 
so comfortable an establishment.” 

But to the young mistress of this comfortable 
establishment had come a world of new thoughts. 
Her girlish prayer for a 11 real life ” had been sud- 
denly answered in a way unexpected, undesired. 


182 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


The reality pained and saddened her, but it must 
needs be taken up, and with the knowledge of it 
the last temptation to a merely fashionable, pleas- 
ure-seeking existence vanished. She did not again 
attempt to discuss with her husband the topic that 
had proved so distasteful to him, but the enforced 
silence made her think of it only the more deeply. 
The old memory, unrecalled so long, grew strong 
and tenacious, and the conviction she had been 
scarcely conscious of possessing deepened and took 
firm root. There was before her a definite object 
to be accomplished ; toward that she must live and 
work. 

Then, one quiet Sabbath morning in the early 
spring, when three or four persons stood before 
the altar of Grace church to take the oath of al- 
legiance to a new Master, Barbara Holland was 
one of them. Mrs. Ellis nodded her bright head 
well satisfied, but in Colonel Holland’s home 
there was a gray head bowed in still deeper 
thanksgiving : 

“ Two at last ! c If two of you shall agree as 
touching anything that ye shall ask — 5 Ah, Lord, 
is this the beginning of thine answer? And I 
thought her coming would but bar the door more 
hopelessly ! Two to pray for them now. O 


UNTO CJZSAR— UNTO GOD. 


183 


Father, hear thou the prayer in heaven thy 
dwelling-place ; and when thou hearest, forgive !” 

Yet the agreement between the two was a tacit 
one; there were but few words about it. Only, 
that evening, when Barbara turned from the piano, 
where she had been softly playing, and Laurence 
had left her side — in those days the boy had a 
fashion of lingering about his young stepmother 
— the elder lady said, 

“ Do you remember that old story of the taking 
of Jericho? I have been thinking about it to-day 
— how Joshua, looking at the high, strong wall, did 
not recognize the ‘ Captain of the Lord’s host/ but 
viewed him as a probable enemy. We so often 
make that mistake and fancy hindrance and danger 
when the Lord is sending help. That is the way I 
thought of you, my dear ; I did not know you for 
one of his messengers.” 

“ I did not know myself,” answered Barbara, 
with a smile that ended in a sigh as she added, 
“ The walls are high and strong, surely.” 

“ I don’t see how you two people know what you 
are talking about ; I don’t,” remarked Laurence, 
with saucy freedom. He had not wandered farther 
away than the tempting cushions in an alcove, 
where he lay stretched at full length in luxurious 


184 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


idleness. “ Tell me that story about Jericho, Mater 
Barbara, will you not ? I know it’s somewhere in 
the Bible, but I know a good deal more about old 
Troy ; and that’s not being overwhelmingly famil- 
iar with Troy, either.” 

Barbara looked at the bright boyish face turned 
laughingly toward her. She w r as growing very fond 
of Laurence, and had dropped into a half-motherly, 
half-sisterly relation to him which was probably 
the best she could have assumed. Much authority 
over the boy of fourteen she could scarcely have 
had, but she was beginning to see that she might 
have almost boundless influence. When she first 
came he had simply called her “ Mrs. Holland,” 
until his father, more sharply than he often spoke 
to Laurence, reminded him that she was his mother. 
After that, for a time, he skillfully avoided any 
title whatever, but of late he had, to use his own 
version of the matter, “ compromised on the mater- 
nal cognomen ” by giving Barbara its equivalent in 
every language in which he could learn it, with 
additions and variations of his own. It suited 
Barbara. She shrank from the gravely-uttered 
name, and felt that these playful titles expressed 
their relationship more correctly ; there were friend- 
liness and comradeship about them. 


UNTO CAESAR— UNTO GOD. 


185 


How much Laurence found to interest him in 
the siege of Jericho, Barbara could judge only by 
an occasional question and the eyes intently fixed 
upon her face. He was silent for a few minutes at 
its conclusion, and then abruptly remarked, as if 
some one had made a proposition, 

“ If you take a class of boys in that Grace Sun- 
day-school, marmar, I don’t know as I mind go- 
ing.” 

And that was the beginning of a new work for 
Barbara. 

Laurence’s announcements were apt to be sud- 
den. The day after his school closed for the sum- 
mer vacation, when he had noisily dropped his strap- 
ful of books in the hall, he startled the dinner-table 
by observing, 

“ And now I want to go out to Kitty’s for my 
vacation.” 

“ Kitty’s?” repeated his father and his step- 
mother in chorus, the former in astonishment, the 
latter inquiringly. 

“Yes, our Kitty — Kitty Wilder’s. She seemed 
to think it was a very mopy sort of a place she was 
going to ; but when she told me about it, I knew 
it was just the kind I’d like, and I told her I’d 
come — parental tyranny permitting, of course.” 


186 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ You did?” said his father, amused. “ Did she 
invite you ?” 

“Well” — Laurence paused to reflect — “ I don’t 
remember exactly what she did say, but Fm pretty 
sure she expects me. She didn’t say she didn’t 
want me. Why, of course she does ! She knows 
I wouldn’t be any bother.” 

“ She will find herself an exceedingly deluded 
young woman if she believes anything of the kind,” 
laughed his father. “What do you propose to 
busy yourself with ? And what sort of a place is 
it ? I have really forgotten what Kitty’s home is 
like — if I ever knew.” 

“ Oh,” answered Laurence, “ it’s a quiet little 
village — dull, she called it — with plenty of woods 
near it, and nice places to fish, and an old mill. 
I want to fish.” 

On the whole, it was not a bad plan for the boy’s 
vacation, Colonel Holland thought. A quiet coun- 
try-place where he could live out of doors, and 
where some one knew him well enough to look after 
him a little, would be admirable. So consent was 
given with the good-natured indulgence that met 
most of Laurence’s requests. 

Only the grandmother thought of any objection, 
and she had so long accustomed herself to no voice 


UNTO CAESAR— UNTO GOD. 


187 


in the family council that she hesitated before she 
spoke : 

“ Are you sure it will be convenient for Kitty, 
Bradley ? She would be glad to see Laurence, I 
know, but she lives with her grandfather, you re- 
member, and her sister, and the family are not in 
very easy circumstances, I believe. It might trou- 
ble them.” 

“Oh, they have a comfortable farm, haven’t 
they ? I really never knew anything of any of the 
family but Kitty,” he explained as he met his wife’s 
eyes. “ Well, that part of it can easily be arranged. 
I’ll write to Kitty. — Thank you for the sugges- 
tion, mother.” 

It pleased Bradley that his mother had made the 
suggestion. Certainly she seemed less sad and 
abstracted lately. He said so to his wife as they 
passed out of the room together, and repeated the 
words that were still sweet to hear, though they 
could not now hold the meaning she had once at- 
tached to them: 


“ You are doing wonders, Barbara.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

A BOARDER. 

T7HTTY looked curiously at the letter Dick 
dropped beside her plate at breakfast. It 
bore the familiar postmark, but that bold, business- 
like address promised nothing from Angie Bates ; 
and, indeed, that correspondence had sadly lan- 
guished of late. Then a flash of recognition came, 
and she exclaimed as she tore open the envelope, 
“ From Cousin Bradley !” 

Kitty’s first thought was of an invitation for the 
summer — to go to the mountains with them, per- 
haps, or to the seashore — she quite forgetting that 
the new Mrs. Holland did not even know her, and 
that the colonel would be the last person to think 
of such a thing. The only wonder was that he 
had not entirely forgotten her in the months of her 
absence. His letter speedily disclosed why he had 
not, but he had really managed his somewhat deli- 
cate communication very well : 

188 


A BOARDER. 


189 


“ Dear Kitty : I do not know what romances 
of rural life you may have repeated to Laurence, 
but you seem to have fascinated him, and now that 
school is over he is anxious to make a descent upon 
you with fishing-tackle, game-bags and I know not 
what besides. He says Kitty is ‘ expecting ’ him 
for a visit — which I very much doubt ; and even 
if it were so, I would not consent that your fears 
should be realized. But if your sister — she is the 
housekeeper, is she not ? — will kindly agree to 
receive him as a boarder for a few weeks, and if 
you can look after him a little, I shall really con- 
sider his plan an admirable one : the country will 
be good for him and I shall feel safe about him. I 
know it is asking a good deal, for a schoolboy like 
Laurence, just set free for vacation, is something 
of a cyclone to introduce into a quiet family. If 
you think his presence will in any way disturb 
your grandfather or prove inconvenient to your 
sister or yourself, do not feel the slightest hesitation 
in letting me know, and I will turn his enthusiasm 
in some other direction.” 

Kitty’s eyes hastily ran over the page, and then 
she read it aloud. 

“ Is he particularly noisy or troublesome ?” ques- 


190 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


tioned Petra, rather doubtfully, after a moment’s 
surprised silence. 

“ No more so than any other boy. That is only 
Cousin Bradley’s way of making us understand 
that if he comes at all it must be as a boarder.” 

Petra’s brown face flushed a little. She sudden- 
ly remembered that her sister had been an inmate 
of this man’s home for years, and it seemed only 
natural and right that her family should receive 
his son as a welcome visitor for as long a time as 
he chose to stay. Still, there was the old problem 
of making ends meet. It did not seem possible 
with such a guest all summer. 

“ I don’t see how we can do it,” she concluded as 
she explained her feelings to Kitty. 

“ It’s good of you to think of it in that way,” 
answered Kitty, with one of the little stirrings of 
appreciation which now and then of late she dis- 
covered in herself toward Petra. The girl who 
worked in the mill and who knew nothing of the 
world of “ society ” did have some views and sen- 
timents worth recognizing. 

“I know Cousin Bradley, though, and he will 
never think of any interchange of hospitalities or 
any such feeling as you have about it; he only 
views me as an experiment of CouLin Helen’s.” 



A Letter from Cousin Bradley. 


f •* 

• ** 


Page 190 
















* 




























































A BOARDER. 


191 


There was a touch of bitterness in the last words, 
but Petra’s eyes, with some perplexity in them, 
were watching Kitty, and she hurried on to safer 
ground : 

“Of course we will send a cordial invitation, 
but he will insist on having his own way ; which 
is just as well, since we can’t afford any other way, 
and so we may as well take the comfort of it. I’ll 
be glad to see Laurence again.” 

Petra drew a breath of relief. Such a boarder, 
with Colonel Holland’s ideas of remuneration, 
would bring a not uncomfortable addition to the 
family income, and, since Kitty viewed the matter 
so favorably and promised to see to putting a room 
in order for the new-comer, the letter which at first 
had appeared formidable grew into a bit of sun- 
shine. 

As for Kitty, she quite enjoyed her little work 
of preparation. It was only Laurence who was 
coming, and he was too healthfully and wholly a 
boy to be critical or fastidious about his belong- 
ings. He would be blissfully unconscious of many 
things that older eyes might see, and so his pres- 
ence would not trouble her, and it would be like 
a breath from the old life. She had both taste and 
ingenuity, and her skillful fingers, with a little 


192 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


drawing from her own store of pretty trifles, con- 
trived, without making any great changes in the 
room she had selected, to give it quite a different 
air. She had done very little of this work of 
transformation in her home ; she had not thought 
it worth while. 

Yet in some ways Kitty had gained a good 
deal in the months that had passed. Her school 
at the cross-roads had not been conducted in the 
martyr-like, purposeless way in which she had first 
thought of applying for a place as teacher. Her 
encounter with Mary Jane Griggs and Mr. Bar- 
ton’s terrible “ fundamentals ” had awakened her 
to the fact that even this little post could not be 
held carelessly. Moreover, her pride had been 
touched by her first defeat, and she had resolved 
to show Mr. Barton and several other people that 
success as a teacher did not entirely depend upon a 
head filled with horrid figures and outlandish places. 
There was a goodly store of determination in Kitty’s 
character, untrained though it had been. She was 
fertile in expedients and winning in manner. She 
was wise enough to study along the line where she 
had discovered her deficiency, and, altogether, Kitty 
was growing quite popular in the small kingdom 
of Cross Creek. She was really finding consider- 


A BOARDER. 


193 


able satisfaction, too, in her work and its progress, 
though she had not acknowledged so much even to 
herself. She fancied that she was still very mis- 
erable; only, of course, she had not so much time 
to think about it now. One who had been quick 
to note and heartily to praise her success was Mr. 
Kent, but his commendation always brought a flush 
to Kitty’s cheek and a guilty feeling to her heart. 
With all her fondness for admiration, she shrank 
from the minister’s cordial friendliness. 

“ Because it isn’t me that he really likes at all ; I 
know it isn’t. He only likes the mistake that he 
made and never found out,” she said to herself. 

Yet the very throb of humiliation held in it the 
promise of better things than Kitty had yet known. 
Mr. Kent’s remark that her sister was “ carrying 
burdens too heavy for her” had also recurred to 
Kitty many times since that day, and had caused 
her to notice Petra more closely than else she might 
have done. As a result the money she earned was 
added to the common fund instead of being spent 
upon herself, and so became really a help. It was 
because of the closer notice, too, that she discov- 
ered how her sister liked to take up the books she 
was studying and occasionally asked questions about 
them, and something of the tact she was learning 
13 


194 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


in her school-work guided her in her answers and 
induced her to leave the right books where they 
could be found when wanted. 

Still, when Kitty had finished putting Lau- 
rence’s room in order, the smile with which she 
surveyed it ended in a sigh. Laurence would be 
sure to like it all the better because it was so dif- 
ferent from the luxurious apartments at home. 
The novelty would please his boyish fancy for 
the little time he was to stay ; but even if it were 
not for a little while, he would not care : such 
things did not matter much to boys — the things 
that meant all the comfort of life to her. If only 
she and Laurence could change places ! 

The “ Barracks ” and its surroundings certainly 
did not depress Laurence as it had Kitty upon her 
return. He pronounced it a “ jolly old place” 
upon the first view, and proceeded to get a fuller 
view as rapidly as possible by wandering in doors 
and out, from the house to the well, the barn and 
the orchard. Kitty’s grandfather struck him in 
the light of an unexpected prize : a man not too 
busy to sit still and tell a boy about the best places 
to fish, what kind of bait to use and what country 
nooks were worth visiting was a treasure indeed. 
He expected great things from Dick, too. 


A BOARDER. 


195 


Dick in his secret heart had not been at all sure 
that he liked the proposed invasion of his domain 
by “that youngster from town,” as he privately 
called Laurence, but he was not proof against the 
cheery greeting that met him at the gate the first 
evening after Laurence’s arrival : 

“ Hello, Dick ! You are Dick, ain’t you ? I’ve 
been waiting for you to come.” 

Kitty, as she watched Laurence throwing him- 
self in his hearty, unspoiled way into all the new 
occupations and amusements that offered — the same 
merry boyish Laurence as of old — wondered what 
changes had come to his home with its new mis- 
tress. She wondered, but would not ask, and only 
little by little gained a knowledge of some things 
that surprised her. 

One day a too persistent following of Dick about 
the “ garden-patch,” as Grandpa Wilder called the 
ground that Dick was industriously trying to culti- 
vate, and a long walk up the river afterward, re- 
sulted in a slight illness. Kitty, remembering 
that she had been requested to look after Laurence 
a little, proposed bringing a glass of elderberry 
wine from the cellar for him to take as a dose 
of medicine. 

“ No, sir /” cried Laurence, starting up from his 


196 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


recumbent position on the lounge. “ No, ma’am, I 
mean, but with the emphasis all the same.” 

“Why, Laurence, it isn’t hard to take,” said 
Kitty, laughing at his earnestness. “ It is some- 
thing that Grandma Wilder made herself, and is 
really very pleasant — -just a kind of wine, you 
know.” 

“ That’s the trouble ; I don’t want any wine,” 
persisted Laurence. “ What was the name of that 
missionary who stayed so many years at his post 
without seeing a single heathen converted, and then 
at last they were swept in by crowds ? I ought to 
remember his name, for he is one of the fellows I 
have been hearing about lately. But, any way, 
something like that is what has happened to our 
house. After all these years grandma has suc- 
ceeded in gaining two converts — Mother Barbara 
and myself.” 

Kitty did not understand. Grandma Holland’s 
queer notions were more than she had ever attempt- 
ed to fathom. Of course they were queer, since 
everybody said so, and since they kept her from 
doing as other people did. 

“ Well,” she said, after a moment of astonish- 
ment, “you may have reached the point of refusing 
elderberry wine, but I think you will be a long 


A BOARDER. 


197 


time in learning to refuse everything that Grandma 
Holland does. I surely hope so.” 

“ I mean about wine and all such things. She 
doesn’t believe in drinking it or making it or sell- 
ing it, and neither do I,” declared Laurence, stout- 
ly. “ Only,” he added, with a sudden shadowing 
of his bright young face, “ I can’t see how it is all 
going to come out. Everything is so mixed !” 

u And how came you to think so much about it?” 
asked Kitty, curiously. 

“ Oh, I heard them talking — Grandma and 
Mamma B. — and a fellow can’t help thinking now 
and then when he has nothing better to do.” 

Instruction on such subjects as total abstinence 
and missions was a new turn for Laurence’s educa- 
tion to take, and Kitty said so. 

Laurence laughed : 

“ Oh, that’s Mother Barbara too. I’ve sort of 
imbibed all I know about missions and such things; 
it isn’t much. She goes to societies, you know, and 
writes papers, and I get interested sometimes. Her 
eyes shine so when she talks, and she never picks 
out the poky parts to tell me. I wish she would 
come out here ; she’d like it, I know.” 

It was evident that Laurence had learned to care 
a good deal for his stepmother in a familiar, young- 


198 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


er-brotherly-love way, and the fact that he had 
been allowed to assume such a relationship greatly 
changed Kitty’s prejudices and fancies concerning 
the new mistress of Holland Place. Still, she was 
thankful that there was no probability of Mrs. 
Holland ever wishing to visit the Barracks. 

Laurence enjoyed himself: the long days by the 
river-side or in the woods, the spare hours with 
Dick, Grandpa Wilder’s country lore and the walk 
to Kitty’s school all suited him. His was a hearty 
appetite, mental as well as physical, and easily 
pleased with whatever came to hand. He had 
grown to seem like one of the family, when, one 
day, he suddenly startled Kitty by an announce- 
ment : 

“ Uncle Clinton is coming to-morrow.” 

“ ‘ Uncle Clinton ’ ? Clinton Holland ? Coming 
here ?” 

Something in Kitty’s short, amazed questions 
and in the look on her face as she dropped the 
books from her hand made Laurence explain won- 
deringly in his turn : 

“ Not to stay, of course; only just to stop over 
a train, he says. He is on his way to our house, 
and papa wanted him to stop and see how I am 
getting along — whether I am behaving myself, he 


A BOARDER. 


199 


very politely puts it. He will come on the ten- 
o’clock express, I suppose, and go at half-past six. 
Why, it will not be any bother, will it? You 
needn’t mind Uncle Clint ; I can take care of him 
while you are at school.” 

Kitty recovered her self-possession sufficiently to 
laugh : 

“ I was only surprised ; I haven’t seen him in a 
long time. He will find you getting along very 
comfortably, will he not?” 

Then Kitty took up her books again and started 
on her schoolward walk, but her brain was in a 
whirl. It was all very well for Laurence to say 
that she need not mind : much he knew about it ! 
Clinton Holland was the last person in the world 
whom Kitty wanted to see — or, rather, to be seen 
by — in that shabby old house with her present sur- 
roundings. In his occasional visits at his brother’s 
house he had appeared to her girlish fancy a very 
model of elegance. He was younger than Bradley, 
but several years older than herself, and, as she 
was nearly always at school, she had not been very 
well acquainted with him. But Angie Bates had 
informed her that ladies — “real young ladies out 
in society” — pronounced him “ delightful, but so 
fastidious !” and altogether Kitty had greatly ad- 


200 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


mired him in her schoolgirlish way. The thought 
that Laurence’s coming might bring any other 
member of the family, least of all this one, had 
never occurred to her, and all her old pride, discon- 
tent with her position and disgust for her home and 
its belongings awoke with the prospect. 

“ I wish he would stay away. Oh dear ! I 
wish I were not here myself. How everything 
will look to him !” 

The only thing to be done, however, was to 
make the best of it, and, though Kitty bitterly de- 
clared to herself that there was no “ best,” she be- 
gan to plan feverishly. The next day was a holi- 
day, fortunately, and she should not be required to 
leave him, as had been so obligingly suggested, to 
the care of Laurence — Laurence, who would be 
sure to take him everywhere he ought not to go, 
and to hunt up as a special object of interest every- 
thing that one would not want seen. She would 
get up a nice little lunch if it took every penny she 
owned, and the table could be made respectable 
with grandma’s old linen and china. Dick and 
Pete would not be home then, and she was glad 
of it. 

“ Well, I am !” she assured herself, defiantly, as 
she recognized that thought. “ Dick is only a boy, 


A BOARDER. 


201 


but he is just as well away. And Pete ! What 
would he think of her being a common mill-girl ? 
And Pete would just as calmly tell him where she 
had been if any question or remark called it out as 
if that horrid place were a queen’s palace. If only 
he were going away a little earlier, I might manage 
it so that he would go without that precious bit of 
knowledge.” 

Why not so arrange it even as matters were? 
Why need Clinton meet Pete at all, or Dick, 
either? Grandpa would be there, of course, but 
old people were expected to have homely, old- 
fashioned ways. Kitty would get him to talking 
about the village as it was in the days when those 
old derricks were put up. Grandpa talked well 
about old times, and it was rather interesting. 
Then, as soon as lunch was over, she could pro- 
pose a walk to view the deserted wells, and from 
there they could go to the little cave in the woods 
which was Laurence’s favorite nook. That would 
please Laurence, prevent any long stay in the 
house and keep them all busy until time to return 
for an early tea. It really ought to be an earlier 
tea than usual, to give their guest ample time to 
reach his train. That would be a sufficient reason 
for not waiting for the family. 


202 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ That is exactly what I will do,” decided Kitty, 
with a determined nod of her head. 

But when, at evening, Kitty told Petra of the 
expected arrival, there seemed for a moment some 
danger that her plan for entertaining the guest 
might be frustrated. 

“ It is very probable that you may not see him ; 
for if he goes away at half-past six, we ought to 
have tea for him a little earlier than we have 
our own tea. But you will not mind that, I 
suppose ?” concluded Kitty, with well-assumed 
carelessness. 

“ Perhaps I may be able to come home earlier 
to-morrow,” answered unconscious Pete. “It is 
quite likely that I may ; they are not hurried in 
the packing-room now. Not that I particularly 
care to see Mr. Holland,” she added, with a faint 
smile ; “ only if it would be any more convenient 
or pleasanter for you — ” 

“ Oh, I wouldn’t bother,” interposed Kitty, hur- 
riedly, her heart throbbing with a sensation of min- 
gled guilt and vexation. “ He will be here but a 
few hours, and it is only Laurence whom he really 
comes to see, you know. He does not care to see 
us. I wouldn’t take the least trouble about it if I 
were you.” 


A BOARDER. 


203 


Kitty felt that at least the last sentence was quite 
honest, and Petra, a trifle surprised at this sudden 
indifference to one of the persons whose doings and 
goings Kitty usually regarded as of great import- 
ance, was glad that nothing remarkable was ex- 
pected of her, and dropped the subject with a 
quiet monosyllable: 

“ Well !” 


CHAPTER XII. 


WHAT FELL WITH THE WALLS. 

TT is not often that circumstances will run smooth- 
ly in the groove human hands mark out for 
them, but everything really appeared to be doing 
so the next day, and Kitty congratulated herself. 
A few of her own choice books and engravings 
scattered here and there wonderfully relieved the 
barrenness of the great front room, and large vases 
of the roses that were blooming so luxuriously 
about the old place lent it color and beauty. 

Then, too, Deb was propitious and entered heart- 
ily into Kitty’s plans for lunch : 

“ Laws, chile, ye don’ s’pose I’se furgot how to 
cook ? De Wilders was de kind to set good tables 
in de ole days. Nebber ye fear ; git ole Deb ’nuff 
to cook, an’ tings’ll be all right.” 

Deb kept her promise royally, and Kitty’s anx- 
ious eyes brightened as they scanned the table. 
Grandpa was in his best array, his gray hair 

smoothly brushed and a white handkerchief sub- 
204 


WHAT FELL WITH THE WALLS. 205 


stituted for the bandanna — what would he not do 
to please Kitty ? — and a slight suggestion landed 
him safely on the desired topic. It was one in 
which Mr. Holland had an intelligent interest, and 
altogether the hour flew swiftly. Then Kitty deli- 
cately contrived that Laurence should propose the 
walk. It was a delightful day, and the soft air and 
the bright sunlight seemed to invite one out of 
doors ; so that part of the programme followed 
naturally. Only over the old man’s face passed a 
flitting shadow of disappointment. He had so en- 
joyed the talk, the wandering back to old times 
with an appreciative listener, that he had begun to 
look forward to a pleasant afternoon ; but he relin- 
quished the prospect with a patient little sigh as 
Kitty came down stairs with hat and gloves. 

Laurence was in high spirits. He told of the 
good times he was having and of the number of 
fish he had caught, and the fastidious uncle Clinton 
manifested a keener sympathy in all these things, 
Kitty thought, than she could have believed pos- 
sible. It seemed to her that his manner was more 
gentle, his courtesy more simple and hearty, than 
she had thought them when she saw him in town. 

“ I am glad Bradley let the boy come out here 
this summer,” he said as Laurence walked a little 


206 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


in advance — “ that is, if he is not a trouble to you. 
Bradley feared that he might be inconveniencing 
you in some way by so long a stay — you or your 
sister, I think he said ? That was why he wished 
me to stop. By the way, I have not seen your sis- 
ter, Miss Kitty.” 

“She is not at home to-day,” answered Kitty, 
her face flushing. “No; Laurence is no trouble. 
He likes things — -just as they are,” hesitating a little 
over the close of her seutence. 

“Why shouldn’t he? Such a simple country 
life is by far the most healthful one for a boy. I 
know I enjoyed it myself, and I often pity children 
who are condemned to grow up in a city.” 

Laurence dropped back again, in his hand a sprig 
of wild vine which promised well for the coming 
blackberry-crop, and the conversation once more 
turned into a safe channel. Kitty resolved to keep it 
there, and talked gayly, though with a little fever- 
ish flush on her cheek, on every topic which sug- 
gested itself. Through it all she kept an anxious 
watch on sun and shadow, and was the only one 
of the trio who hailed with secret relief every in- 
dication that the afternoon was waning. She great- 
ly feared, when their long ramble brought them 
back to the homeward road only half a mile from 


WHAT FELL WITH THE WALLS. 207 


the medicine-factory, that something would remind 
Laurence of the fact and of Petra ; but it chanced 
that the turn in the road found Uncle Clinton in 
the midst of an interesting recital, and the boy was 
oblivious of everything else. Only a little while 
longer now and the dreaded day would be over — 
“ respectably over, without being any more humilia- 
ting than was necessary,” Kitty said to herself. 

Suddenly through the sweet country quiet of the 
summer afternoon came a sound like the firing of a 
heavy cannon ; it shook the earth around, and was 
instantly followed by a crash, dying away in a long 
rumbling noise that could not have been all echo. 

“ What was that ?” exclaimed Laurence as in- 
voluntarily the trio paused and looked at one an- 
other. 

“ It couldn’t have been thunder?” said Kitty, 
half questioningly, her glance sweeping the clear 
sky. 

“ No ; it did not sound like that. Is there any 
mining or tunneling going on anywhere in the 
neighborhood ? It was more like the noise of 
blasting rock. It must have been an explosion of 
some sort.” 

Laurence shook his head decidedly : 

“No, Uncle Clinton ; there is no such work go- 


208 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


ing on anywhere around here, or I should have 
known it. I’m sure of that.” 

“ You must have been keeping a careful over- 
sight in this vicinity,” laughed his uncle. “ Well, 
then we must call it an earthquake, I suppose, or 
wait for time to reveal the mystery.” 

The time required was not long. But a short 
distance had been walked when the clattering of a 
horse’s hoofs was heard on the road behind, and in 
a moment appeared an excited rider who called as 
he swept past, 

“ The factory has fallen in — the medicine-fac- 
tory !” 

Factory’?” 

Uncle Clinton, Kitty and Laurence each repeat- 
ed the word, and then stopped and blankly gazed 
at one another. 

“ Any one hurt ?” cried Laurence. 

But the horseman, if he heard the question, 
paused for no reply, only turned in his stirrups and 
shouted back : 

“ Go and help, or carry the word.” 

“Pete!” exclaimed Laurence, uttering his first 
swift thought, but he repented the word as he saw 
Kitty’s blanched face. 

“ Oh, let us go back !” 


WHAT FELL WITH THE WALLS. 209 


The words came with a long shuddering breath, 
and Mr. Holland began to expostulate : 

" Ought you to go ?” with a suggestive emphasis 
on the pronoun. “ If you could go home, Lau- 
rence and I — ” 

" Oh, I must go !” Kitty interposed, wildly. “ I 
cannot live and not know whether she is there. Do 
let us hurry.” 

Kitty had turned as she spoke ; Laurence was be- 
side her, and the visitor followed wonderingly. He 
offered his arm as he reached Kitty’s side, and she 
took it mechanically, though it seemed as if her 
flying feet could scarcely keep pace with a steadier 
step. Casualties were fortunately rare in this quiet 
place, and this one might involve loss of life as well 
as loss of property. Still, neither curiosity, hu- 
manity nor a blending of the two could quite ac- 
count for the girl’s intense excitement, her compan- 
ion thought. 

Presently another messenger from the scene of 
disaster came along, and delayed long enough to 
report a little more clearly what had happened : 

“ Don’t know what started it. Something went 
wrong in the room where the retorts are — there’s 
always a lot of chemicals there — and the first thing 
we knew was an awful explosion that tore out the 
14 


210 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


wall. The next minute the whole west part of the 
building came crashing down — store-room, packing- 
room. Any one hurt? My, yes! Nobody knows 
how many are buried under the walls. There were 
all the girls, you see, and — ” 

Kitty’s cry of agony checked the speaker. He 
cast a startled glance at her face and hastily added, 
“ Well, some got out. It’s hard to tell much 
about it yet. I’m after doctors and help and he 
hurried away. 

“ It’s Pete, you know — Kitty’s sister,” explained 
Laurence, in answer to the surprised questioning in 
his uncle’s eyes. 

But Mr. Holland had not known, and even yet 
he did not comprehend : 

“ Her sister ? Was she — Not here f’ 

The tone of amazement stung Kitty even through 
her anguish, and suddenly flashed before her all the 
petty cowardice and disloyalty of the day. Was it 
a question like this that she had so dreaded ? Was 
it only the fear of a glance like this that had made 
her ashamed of her very sister and ready to disown 
her? And now the tie she had despised was 
broken ! Her bitter remorse, self-scorn and tor- 
turing fear burst forth in her answer: 

“ Yes, my sister — Petra, my only sister. And 


WHAT FELL WITH THE WALLS. 211 


she has worked here because we were poor and 
needed the money, and there was nothing else for 
her to do. She was too brave and unselfish to think 
of herself, and she has always taken the hard places 
and borne the heavy burdens, while I — I have let 
her do it, and have been ashamed of her being only 
a mill-girl. I didn’t want you to know. Do you 
think I care'now ? I’d tell all the world if I could. 
— Oh, Pete, Pete ! I did love you ! I loved you 
best.” 

The passionate words broke in a sob. Kitty had 
withdrawn her hand from the supporting arm in 
the defiance of her confession, but her companion 
replaced it with quiet firmness : 

“You are taking the worst for granted, Miss 
Kitty ; there is no reason to give up hope yet. We 
may find your sister safe and unharmed ; but if 
she should be among those to be rescued or cared 
for, you will need all your strength and self-con- 
trol. You must be brave and strong if you are to 
help her or any one.” 

The calm voice and the reassuring words had 
their effect. Kitty looked up into Mr. Holland’s 
face and saw not the slightest token that he was 
shocked at herself or her revelation, and she caught 
at the hope he held out. 


212 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


It was bat a few minutes before the country road 
was alive with people. It seemed wonderful that 
the tidings could have spread so rapidly, but a 
crowd had already gathered about the building, and 
other anxious voices were pressing their inquiries 
for missing friends when Kitty and her companions 
reached the place. All was confusion, and it was 
not easy to find any one who could give definite 
information. 

“ Girls in the packing-room ? Yes’m ; I think 
they were all there when it happened,” answered 
a workman with sleeves rolled above his elbows. 
His arms were brawny and his hands were strong, 
but the muscles twitched convulsively as he spoke, 
and the eyes he turned upon Kitty wore a dazed 
look, as if he saw another face than hers. “ My 
boy was there, down in the lower room.” 

The man was eager to be among the workers 
who were removing the debris, but a companion, 
an overseer in one of the mill-rooms, pushed him 
back with a gruff kindliness : 

“Wait a bit, Neil; you are not fit for it. 
They’re doing all that can be done as fast as 
mortal hands can do it. Wait till some one tires 
out, and you can take his place. It’s hard to be 
still such times, but a man must make use of his 


WHAT FELL WITH THE WALLS. 213 


reason and not waste strength that will be needed 
later on.” 

The last sentence was addressed to Mr. Holland, 
and that gentleman seized the opportunity to in- 
quire once more about the inmates of the room in 
which Petra had been. 

“ I don’t know how many were there to-day. 
Some of them escaped — three of them. One was 
pretty badly hurt, but the others were only some- 
what bruised. It’s a wonder they got out. There 
is one of them now and he pointed to a girl with 
a bandaged hand standing in the centre of a little 
group at the outer edge of the crowd. Every one 
who had been on the spot at the time of the acci- 
dent was besieged by curious and anxious inquiries. 

“ Petra Wilder?” She turned at Kitty’s ques- 
tion. “ Oh yes ; she was there. She came to get 
some fresh paste from my table once this after- 
noon, I remember, but I don’t know where she 
was at the last ; I hadn’t noticed her for a while. 
No, she wasn’t with us ; there were only three of 
us that got out. We were near the upper door, 
and we jumped as the walls began to give way. 
But I’m afraid it didn’t do poor Elsie much good ; 
the doctor can’t tell yet how badly she is hurt. I 
got off the best of all.” 


214 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


Kitty turned away ; the final hope was gone 
now. Somewhere under that crushing weight of 
rubbish Petra lay dead, or, more terrible still, 
mangled and suffering. 

Laurence looked pityingly at the white face, and 
then at his uncle : 

u If she would only go home ! ” 

But Mr. Holland too well understood the sus- 
pense that would not let Kitty rest for a moment 
away from the scene. He did not ask her to go, 
but found a seat for her at a little distance, where 
she could watch the workmen, and shielded her as 
far as possible from all curious glances and ques- 
tions. There was no reasonable encouragement to 
offer, and he would not torture her with vague sur- 
mises or efforts at consolation ; so, except for the 
silent sympathy that alone was endurable, she was 
left to herself. 

The time had flown unnoticed, as it always does 
when eternity breaks in such strange ways into our 
daily lives. The sun had dropped low behind the 
hills, but as his light faded prompt hands had 
kindled huge bonfires that threw a ruddy glare 
over the scene. Mr. Holland’s train had long 
since swept on its way, but no one thought of it. 
All interest was centred upon the work of re- 


WHAT FELL WITH THE WALLS. 215 

moving the ruins, which was going forward rapid- 
ly, yet cautiously also, since any want of care might 
mean danger to some one buried beneath, or dan- 
ger to the workers themselves from the parts of 
the wall yet standing. 

Two of the missing ones had been found, and 
Kitty shuddered at the piteous cry that broke 
from the friends who claimed them as the life- 
less forms were borne away. Would her turn 
come soon? Her fancy pictured Petra now un- 
der this pile of stones, now under those heavy 
timbers, until it seemed as if she must rush to 
the spot and herself begin the work of rescue. 
Then, as she tried to banish such horrible pict- 
ures, memory ran back over the day. Oh, if 
she had only urged Petra to leave the mill ear- 
lier, as she had proposed ! One loving word of 
persuasion, a hint that her coming would give 
pleasure, and she might have been safe. 

“ But I did not want her, I tried to keep her 
from coming, and now she will never come again,” 
Kitty whispered, sadly, to herself. 

The leaping flames, the strange shadows, the 
lurid light on busy men and ruined building, 
recalled to Kitty a night far back in the past 
when she and Petra, clinging close together, 


216 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


had watched a burning house. What insepara- 
ble companions they had been, that little sister 
and she, in the old childish days ! She remem- 
bered how she had shivered in the cold wind, 
and how Petra had thrown the little red cloak 
she wore around them both, so that they were 
wrapped in one garment. Then, with childish 
daring, she had suggested that they should go 
a little nearer to the fire: “ Because, if it must 
burn, we might as well keep warm by it.” It 
was always the younger one who was the leader 
in those days, and Kitty followed admiringly. It 
had not occurred to her then that she could ever 
be ashamed of Pete. Of how little worth were 
the things that she had prized so highly since ! 
They seemed to have crumbled into nothingness 
in the last hour. Oh, if she could but go back 
to the morning and begin again ! If she could 
but turn backward in life’s book just one page ! 

A hand touched Kitty’s shoulder — a cool, steady 
hand — and a familiar voice spoke her name : 

“ Why, Kitty !” 

Kitty started quickly. Dreaming ? No ; there 
were the dark eyes, the dear face, the alert living 
form. 

“ Pete ! Oh, Pete, my darling !” 


WHAT FELL WITH THE WALLS. 217 


The sudden cry, the clasping arms and the quiv- 
ering tearful face astonished and alarmed Petra. 
She looked from Kitty to her two companions, only 
to find that they also were gazing at her in a bewil- 
derment that held something of awe : 

“What is it, Kitty? Why, what is the mat- 
ter ?” 

It was Laurence who enlightened Petra, blurting 
out the truth in boy-fashion : 

“Where on earth did you come from? We 
thought you were — under there.” Glance and ges- 
ture supplemented the sentence. 

Petra shuddered, looked from the terrible mass 
of debris to Kitty’s face, and comprehended all. 

“I never thought of that — of your fearing for 
me,” she said, shocked and troubled. “I went 
home early ; you know I spoke of it yesterday. 
Only grandpa was there ; Dick had gone with the 
squire out to his farm, and we waited for you and 
wondered why you didn’t come, and at last began 
to grow uneasy. We heard nothing of this until 
a half hour ago, and then we knew you must have 
come here. But even then I didn’t think — ” She 
left the sentence unfinished and drew her sister a 
little closer. “ Poor Kitty !” 

It was all so simple and natural when explained, 


218 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


and yet, after those awful hours, it was difficult to 
shake off the feeling that there was something mi- 
raculous in Petra standing there alive and unharmed, 
that she had suddenly come back from another 
world. 

To Petra herself the realization of what might 
have been — would have been but for a merciful 
Providence — grew terribly vivid with that scene 
before her. She saw again the long work-room as 
she had left it that afternoon, and recalled her in- 
decision whether to go or to stay. What voice 
had decided for her and sent her away in safety ? 
And why had she escaped, while others had suffer- 
ed ? But amid the strange tumult of feeling — the 
gratitude so tinged with awe, the wondering ques- 
tion, the keen pain for others and all the shock and 
horror — there was deep in her heart a new glad- 
ness. She had not thought Kitty cared quite like 
this. 

A thrill and movement swept through the crowd : 

“ They’re alive !” 

“ Some of ’em living !” 

“ They’ve heard voices !” 

The short sentences flew from lip to lip, and the 
eager throng swayed and pressed forward, only to 
be forced back again. 


WHAT FELL WITH THE WALLS. 219 


“ Back ! Keep back ! Don’t crowd the workers 
or jar the walls. There’s no room nearer.” 

“ Oh, let me get where I can hear if it’s my 
Jimmy that speaks !” sobbed a woman. 

But no one could grant that knowledge ; it had 
been faint moans, and not words, that had been 
heard. 

Fresh workers constantly took the places of the 
weary ones, watchful eyes and busy hands kept the 
fires brightly blazing, yet, with all the harrowing 
caution that had to be exercised, the work could 
progress but slowly. 

Careful count and inquiry had at last settled the 
number and the names of the missing ones. These 
were not so many as had been feared in the first 
wild alarm. Besides the two bodies recovered soon 
after work began, five were believed to be still in 
the ruins. 

w Not what there’d have been if it had happened 
in busy times, when we was runnin’ full force,” ex- 
plained one employed in the mill. “ But it’s all 
the same for them that was there, poor souls !” 

After a time the one whose voice had been heard 
was reached and removed, alive but unconscious — 
“ Jimmy,” whose wife even so received him ecstat- 
ically : 


220 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ For he ain’t dead, my Jim ain’t, an’ the doctor 
says he may get well yet,” she repeated, as if her 
lips would never tire of the story. 

But for the others little hope remained. No 
word or sound of life answered when at intervals 
the work ceased for a minute and amid breathless 
silence their names were called. 

The hours had passed unheeded, but Kitty’s pale 
face and the thought of her grandfather at last 
recalled Petra: 

a We ought to go home. It seems hard to go 
away, but we can do no good here, and the time 
will be long to grandpa.” 

Petra’s own face showed that she had endured all 
she ought to endure of this scene, and Mr. Holland 
assented promptly : 

“ No, we can be of no use here. I had thought 
that my help might be needed, but there are many 
more now than can be of service. And we need 
not wait to learn the fate of the buried ones ; there 
can be little doubt of that now, I fear.” 

Once away from it all — away from the lights and 
voices, the sights and sounds, that had kept every 
sense strained — and walking homeward along the 
quiet, dusky country road, the excitement subdued 
a little and the tense nerves relaxed, they found that 


WIT AT FELL WITH THE WALLS. 221 


they were still human and weary and sorely needed 
the refreshment of the late supper which Deb had 
prepared. The whole story was to be told to the 
grandfather, who in his lonely waiting had heard 
nothing beyond the first brief tidings, and to Dick, 
who had but just returned from the farm. 

It did not occur to Kitty until long afterward 
how thoroughly at home in the old house Mr. Hol- 
land was that night, nor how a few hours had 
transformed the formally received guest of the 
morning into a friend who seemed quite one of 
themselves. Petra, who had never known her 
sister’s old-time awe and admiration, talked with 
him easily and naturally, and the simple, straight- 
forward, independent girl with the dark bright face 
that lighted up so readily interested him. She dif- 
fered from the type of young ladyhood with which 
he was most familiar, and he found in the change a 
charm that would have surprised Kitty. But just 
then it mattered nothing to Kitty what any one on 
earth thought either of Petra or of herself; she 
was only penitently thankful that her chance to 
“ begin again” had been granted. 

That night, after all had at last sought rest and 
the house was still, there came a light tap at Petra’s 
door and a white-robed figure stole in. 


222 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS . 


“ I want to stay with you/’ said Kitty. “ When- 
ever I close my eyes, all that horror is before them 
again, and I can’t be sure you are safe. Let us 
sleep together to-night as we did when we were 
children and Petra, clasping her sister close, for 
the first time felt that Kitty had really come home. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 

"T)ETRA never went back to the mill. Summer 
had passed into autumn before the ruined walls 
were rebuilt, the machinery was replaced and the 
establishment was in running order again, and in 
that enforced vacation new plans had been formed. 
They originated in Grandma Holland’s “ queer- 
ness” and in Laurence’s enthusiastic letters home. 
The letters had suggested to the old lady that the 
quiet country village and the grand roomy house 
which the boy described might be the very place 
she desired for one of her wards — one of those to 
whom she owed a part of that debt which she was 
always trying to pay. 

“If you could give them room, this lady and 
her two children,” she wrote to Kitty, “I think 
the change would be a great benefit to them. The 
lady has just passed through sore trouble in the 
loss of her husband, and, though she is now in re- 
duced circumstances, she is one to whom I am under 

223 


224 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


such obligations that I will gladly pay the expenses 
of her stay with you.” 

“ I know all about that,” interpolated Kitty ; 
u grandma is always under all sorts of mysterious 
obligations to people in distress. And,” as her eye 
hastily ran over the sheet written so painstakingly 
in the cramped, old-fashioned hand, “ she wants us 
to take these people as boarders, and to make it as 
pleasant for them as we can.” 

“ Well?” said Petra, interrogatively, but bright- 
ening a little ; for Kitty’s tone indicated that the 
proposition struck her favorably, and it came at a 
time, too, when Petra was growing anxious and 
troubled. 

“ Why not do it ?” answered Kitty. Then she 
made so long a pause, with her eyes meditatively 
fixed on the old sofa, that Petra recalled her with 
another — 

“Well?” 

“I was just thinking how we could fix up things. 
Petra, I’m not sure that this isn’t a suggestion that 
may be worth following farther.” 

“ How ?” inquired Pete, still monosyllabic in 
speech. 

“ This village and the country around it are 
rather pretty, and there is surely an abundance of 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


225 


quiet and pure air to satisfy anybody who wants 
those luxuries. And in town there are people who 
do want them — people in c reduced circumstances/ 
as grandma says, or with modest incomes, who can- 
not afford to go and who do not want to go to 
fashionable resorts, but who would like to seek 
recreation at some nice inexpensive country place 
if they only knew where to find one.” 

“And you think this might be the place?” said 
Petra, thoughtfully. “But wouldn’t making it 
inexpensive for them make it unprofitable for us ?” 

“ Oh, I was speaking only comparatively,” ex- 
plained Kitty. “ You have no idea, Pete, how ex- 
pensive it is to stop at some of those stylish sum- 
mer places. I went with Cousin Maria, you know, 
and I didn’t think much about it at the time, but I 
have known since that the prices were exorbitant. 
Terms that would seem very reasonable in compari- 
son would leave a nice margin of profit for us, I 
am sure.” 

“ We have room enough,” said Petra, “ but the 
putting in order — ” 

“That is the trouble,” admitted Kitty; “we 
have so little to work with. But the rooms are 
large and airy and the woodwork is nice ; and if 
we could manage a little paper-hanging and pretty 
15 


226 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


furniture — It needn’t be expensive. There is 
my quarter’s salary due next week, you know. 
Seventy-five dollars will not go very far, and we 
need it for other things ; but if we thought this 
might pay the best, we could make a beginning.” 

The earnest talk that followed resulted in Kitty’s 
sending word to Mrs. Holland that not only would 
they receive the family she had mentioned, but also 
would be glad to take others. 

“ I wonder I did not think of it before,” said 
Kitty, in those busy days of planning and contriv- 
ing, when they did so much and such varied work 
themselves that she laughingly declared they would 
soon be able to go into business as house-furnishers 
and decorators if the scheme of summer boarders 
should prove unsuccessful. 

Pete and Kitty hung paper, covered old chairs 
with chintz, manufactured dressing-tables and 
lounges, and managed to make their small capital 
do wonders. Kitty’s deft fingers and her knowl- 
edge of what would be required were invaluable, 
and she evinced the same readiness in expedients 
which served her so well in her school-work. But 
Petra’s clear brain and business capacity were not 
less useful, and Kitty often watched her wonder- 
ingly. It sometimes seemed to her that she was 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


227 


only just beginning in these days to make her sis- 
ter’s acquaintance. 

In truth, Petra had greatly changed since that 
careless day when she sat in the old apple tree. 
One by one God’s messengers of sorrow, care, 
thought and responsibility had done their work as 
the slow months went by. Her hours of study, 
though often it had seemed to her that she was 
accomplishing very little in them, had amounted to 
a good deal in the aggregate. And Kitty herself 
had helped in the change. Even while her presence 
often seemed but a disappointment and a heartache 
she had exerted an influence. Her language and 
manner, her books and studies, had all had their 
effect upon Petra, just as Petra’s hatred of shams 
and her honest, straightforward loyalty and com- 
mon sense had in turn influenced Kitty. There is 
perhaps no more powerful agent in character-mould- 
ing in this world of ours than that strange one 
which we usually mourn over as uncongenial com- 
panionship. 

The letter to Mrs. Holland wrought satisfactory 
results at both ends of the line. The old lady was 
glad to find that her half-hesitating appeal to the 
old Barracks opened so wide a door ; it solved some 
other problems for her, and before the guests she 


228 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


had first proposed were fairly established two others 
followed. So it happened that through the latter 
part of the summer the house had all it was pre- 
pared to accommodate, even with the very simple 
accommodations that were required. The poor 
little widow and her delicate children, and the tired- 
out seamstress, who seemed never to weary of the 
long restful days out of doors, were so easily satis- 
fied, indeed, and so fearful of making trouble, that 
Kitty confided to her sister a feeling of being al- 
most ashamed to call them boarders. Still, the 
increase of the family and the necessity of careful 
forethought and planning made the weeks busy 
and toilful ; but when, one crisp, bright day in 
October, the little family found themselves alone 
again, they complacently counted up profits, and 
agreed that the season’s work had been fairly re- 
munerative. 

“ I mean to make the garden pay better next 
year,” said Dick ; “ if we are to have the house full 
of folks, we will not be troubled to find a market 
for all we raise. What little we had helped a good 
deal this season, and I don’t know how we could 
have done without the fruit ; but I’ve been think- 
ing of ways to turn some of the ground to better 
account. Mr. Holland told me how they manage 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


229 


some of the market-gardens near town, and it gave 
me an idea.” 

Clinton Holland had made several visits to the 
place that summer. After that eventful first one 
he had “ felt like stopping over a train 99 on his 
return-trip, he said, “ to learn the rest of the 
story. ” He went with Laurence to the scene of 
the disaster, watched for a little the process of 
rebuilding, and then wandered again to the vicin- 
ity of the deserted oil-wells. This spot seemed to 
possess a fascination for him, and he lingered and 
studied it until Laurence began to question won- 
deringly. 

“ Uncle Clint says it’s a pity to see that ground 
lying waste , 99 the boy remarked at the supper-table, 
after his uncle had gone ; “ he says it is near the 
railroad and has fine water-privileges. But I 
don’t see any good in that: oil-privileges were 
what was wanted.” 

“ Unfortunately, you are right,” laughed Kitty ; 
“any amount of wells filled with water wouldn’t 
prove a source of revenue in this part of the 
country.” 

Mr. Holland, however, seemed to have discov- 
ered other possibilities. He came again, viewed 
the site still more critically, and explained to Petra 


230 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


that he had some thought of erectiug a cotton-mill 
there. 

“ Provided the ground can be purchased or 
leased on reasonable terms,” he added, with a 
smile. “ What do you think of such a project ?” 
he asked. 

Petra’s face brightened with pleasure and sur- 
prise. Money instead of that idle tract of land 
would be so much to them ! 

“ I fear I cannot be a disinterested adviser,” she 
answered, honestly, “for of course we would be 
glad to dispose of the ground. I am sure a mill 
would be a benefit to the village, but I cannot tell 
what the reward might be to you ; I do not know 
anything about that.” 

“No, I suppose not.” He hesitated and laughed. 
“I do not know much about that myself, nor 
about the business; but I have a friend who is 
wiser and has a practical knowledge of it in all 
its details. He has interested me in it, and I 
shall depend on his judgment about doing any- 
thing here.” 

Kitty was amazed when the conversation was 
repeated to her. 

“ It would be delightful for us. I never dreamed 
of anybody wanting to buy that ground,” she ex- 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


231 


claimed. “ But what can possess Clinton Holland to 
think of such a thing? Why, Pete, you have no 
idea of the money they have — he and his brother 
— and what great enterprises they are connected 
with ; and why he should care to start a mill in a 
little place like this I can’t see, unless it may be 
for the sake of that friend he mentioned. How- 
ever, I hope he will do it. It may not be a mat- 
ter of much consequence to him, but it will be a 
great deal to us.” 

Whatever might have been Clinton’s motive, it 
was sufficiently strong to prevent him from drop- 
ping the matter, as the girls had half expected him 
to do. He came late in the autumn, bringing with 
him a quiet business-like man who was “ all plans 
and figures,” Kitty said, “and who viewed the 
ground from all points of the compass, survey- 
ing it mathematically, geometrically, mechanically 
and mysteriously.” But he fully approved of it, 
and the longed-for sale was consummated. 

“ We shall begin building as early in the spring 
as the weather will permit,” said Mr. Holland. 

The sum received for the land would do much 
toward putting the house in better order and fit- 
ting it up for summer boarders, and the household, 
after a sober council, decided so to invest it. 


232 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ Slowly and only as we need it,” said Kitty, 
advocating the measure. “But, from what we 
have done this year, I believe that if we make 
the place tasteful and inviting we can have all the 
boarders we want.” 

Petra drew a long breath of relief in feeling 
that she could conscientiously agree with her sis- 
ter. It was restful to find more congenial work 
opening and to feel that the weary days in the mill 
were over. They had been hard days and the bur- 
den of care had been heavy — how heavy she only 
dared allow herself to realize now when it seemed 
lifting. She had thought of resuming her old place 
for the winter, but the plans for the coming season 
called for much preparation in the way of sewing, 
and Kitty was busy in her school. 

“ You stay at home and do the getting ready, 
Petra,” Kitty said ; and Dick approved the sug- 
gestion with the superior air of the man of the 
house : 

“Of course! We’ve had enough of that old 
factory.” 

Having something with which to carry out plans 
made planning a rare pleasure for at least two 
members of the household, and there was ample 
time in the long winter evenings to consult and to 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


233 


arrange with careful forethought for the improve- 
ments to be made in the early spring. 

In one of those winter days Clinton Holland 
was at his brother’s, and in answer to Bradley’s 
jesting questions he admitted his new purchase and 
his purpose of building. 

“How would you like to go into partnership 
with me in that enterprise, mother?” he asked, 
turning to the old lady, who, in her favorite seat 
by the fire, had half-absently listened to the con- 
versation. She started at the sudden question, and 
a faint flush, the old look of pain, swept over the 
delicate face : 

“I? I have nothing ta invest, Clinton. You 
know : nothing of my own.” 

“ Well, what you hold for somebody else, then,” 
he persisted, drawing a little nearer to her. “ Isn’t 
there a more effective way of helping people than 
by simply giving to them ? Isn’t it better to fur- 
nish work, and so help them to help themselves ? 
Really, that is all I am planning for in this new 
m iH — that it shall be a benefit to those who work 
in it, and indirectly to the village. If it is self- 
sustaining, it will meet that purpose, though I shall 
be disappointed if it is not much more than that. 
But the profits shall be used to improve the works 


234 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


and the workmen ; not a penny of them shall go 
into — any other business, unless it is some similar 
enterprise.” 

If Clinton’s purpose was to add to the sum of 
human happiness, he might have considered its suc- 
cess already begun in the brightness of the face 
before him. 

“ I shall like to have a share in it ; I shall in- 
deed, my son — ” 

The voice was tremulous, but Clinton covered 
the abrupt ending of the sentence with some com- 
monplace details about the dimensions of the pur- 
posed building and about the advantages of the site 
selected. Then he glanced at his watch. He had 
spent the day at his brother’s, but he had mention- 
ed this matter only just as he was on the point of 
departing. 

“ I must go or I shall miss my train/’ he said ; 
and he added lightly, “ I can write you more full 
particulars of our great venture, mother — that is, 
if you care to hear any before you see me again.” 

The other faces in the room were a study. Bar- 
bara’s was wondering, eager, incredulous ; Bradley’s 
was half perplexed, half satirical ; while Laurence, 
his elbows on the table, his chin between his palms, 
questioningly looked from one to the other. 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


235 


“ Going over to the enemy, Clint ?” asked his 
brother, in a low voice and with a peculiar smile, 
as he opened the door. 

Clinton answered only with a short laugh and a 
hasty good-bye, but as he reached the street he 
pulled his hat low over a face that held no light 
in it and stalked moodily down the street. Lau- 
rence watched him from the window. Something 
in the solitary figure tramping through the snow 
in the wintry twilight suggested a dreary contrast 
to the brightly-lighted rooms and to the circle 
Clinton had left. 

“ I don’t see why Uncle Clint wants to live by 
himself in rooms,” remarked the boy, disapproving- 
ly. “ Why doesn’t he get a nice home and get 
somebody like Mother Barbara to put in it?” 

“ He can’t,” responded Colonel Holland, prompt- 
ly. “ There isn’t any other like her in the world ; 
we have the only specimen.” 

Barbara looked up with an answering smile in 
her eyes, but checked a sigh in the same instant. 
Ah ! how hard it was that through all the sweet- 
ness of this cup she must still taste the bitterness ! 
She wondered what whim — it could scarcely be more 
than a whim — had seized her brother-in-law. The 
Hollands were not niggardly, nor were they slow in 


236 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


responding to the ordinary calls for charity and aid 
which form so large a part of city life, but their giv- 
ing had always been along the line of other people’s 
benevolences, and had seemed chiefly a matter of 
careless good-nature. They had never assumed 
the rdle of philanthropists. Barbara could not 
understand this new departure, and she was sure it 
puzzled her husband, though he did not allude to 
it. And then the strange promise Clinton had 
made regarding the profits of the new enterprise ! 
But that might have been to please his mother. 

It did please Clinton’s mother. 

“ It opens a way for a kind of help that I have 
often wanted to give and could not give. I could do 
so little !” she said to Barbara the next day. “ But, 
daughter, it is Clinton’s planning it — his promis- 
ing what he did — that I think of most. I don’t 
know what it means, but God does. I can’t see 
where it leads, but I think it must be a door of 
his opening.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE SOUL OF IT. 


“ rjIACK, tack !” went Kitty’s light hammer, 
busily putting up curtains at the windows 
where the soft spring sunlight shone in. “Tap, 
tap !” answered a heavier hammer from without, 
where Dick was fastening a straggling rose-vine 
on to a new trellis beside the piazza. For at 
last the old front platform had taken to itself 
pillars and a roof and had become a veritable 
piazza, and a very comfortable and inviting one. 
That, with a coat of paint which attired the 
whole building in a pretty, soft tint, was the 
only external change which had been attempted, 
but together they had wonderfully transformed 
the appearance of the old Barracks. 

Inside the great front room the faded old Brus- 
sels with its border of rag carpet had been taken 
from the floor and replaced by a pretty but inex- 
pensive ingrain. The shawl had vanished from 

the piano, and Kitty had had the instrument it- 

237 


238 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


self put in as good condition as its age would 
allow — her “one extravagance/’ she called that 
outlay. Neat light paper on the walls and a 
few new chairs — two or three of them uphol- 
stered by the girlish fingers which had certainly 
grown skillful at such work — completed the im- 
provements there. Very simply furnished the 
room certainly was, but prettily and harmonious- 
ly. It was its finished look which, with the gleam 
of the pillars outside, suddenly recalled to Petra 
the day when she had heard it called “ a mass of 
beginnings.” How far away that time seemed ! 
Surely there had been growth since then, and 
now, at last, the old house had felt the touch of 
a new life and was growing also. 

“ I wish we could put soul into it,” she said, 
thoughtfully. 

“ Into what ?” 

Kitty turned quickly on her step-ladder to see 
what her sister could be busy with that needed 
such a strange addition. She saw only yards of 
delicate chintz that belonged to the chamber-fur- 
nishing, and repeated her question more wonder- 
ingly still : 

“A soul into what, Petra?” 

“ Into — everything.” 


THE SOUL OF IT. 


239 


Petra’s dark face flashed a little ; her wistful 
words had seemed to speak themselves and were 
not easy to explain. 

“Thought is deeper than all speech, 

Feeling deeper than all thought,” 

and she was not quite sure that she could clearly 
express even to herself just what her wish meant. 
But she told of that eventful day, of her visitor 
and of the words that had awakened her thought: 

“ And now that it isn’t a dead beginning any 
longer, but is growing into shape — Well, I was 
thinking about the ‘In the beginning’ of the 
Bible — how the light and growth, the forming 
and setting in order, the human bodies even, were 
only a getting ready, and then God breathed into 
this creation the breath of life and crowned it with 
1 a living soul.’ I’d like a soul in our lives, Kitty 
— in this new work ; something to make it more 
than just a means of getting food and clothing.” 

For a moment a mist of tears dimmed Kitty’s 
eyes; she had not thought beyond externals — she 
who had come home with such a sense of her own 
superiority, consoling herself for her enforced as- 
sociation with those so far beneath her by the hope 
that she might be able to elevate them a little. It 


240 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


seemed to her now that whatever was true, worthy 
or unselfish about her she had learned from Petra. 

“ I think the soul has come to some of it,” she 
answered, slowly. 

At the opposite end of the village change and 
building had been going on also. Excavations had 
been filled up, old wrecks removed, and “ Wilder’s 
Folly,” as the tract had been christened, had be- 
come a scene of busy activity quite startling to the 
quiet village. The building was carried forward 
as rapidly as a large force of workmen could do it, 
and the contractor assured all visitors that it was 
“ tip-top good work, too; no sham or slighting 
anywhere in material or labor, either. Mr. Hol- 
land wants the best, and lie’s willing to pay for it.” 

The manufacturer who had at first approved the 
location, and under whose supervision the mill was 
approaching completion, also heartily commended 
its construction. But there was one part of the 
building which he had no share in planning, and 
over which he shook his practical head and doubt- 
fully twisted his gray moustache, expressing the 
opinion that it was “ a queer bit of fancy-work to 
hitch on to a cotton-factory.” 

“ You don’t think it will interfere with the spin- 


THE SOUL OF IT. 


241 


Ding, do you, Dorsey?” questioned Mr. Holland, 
quizzically. 

“ Well, no ; I can’t say that it will.” 

“ Nor affect the quality of the weaving ?” 

“ Maybe not. I don’t say it will interfere with 
anything,” answered the superintendent, non-com- 
mittally, “ but it’s a new notion to me, and I don’t 
know how it will work.” 

“ Neither do I,” answered Mr. Holland, undis- 
turbed. “ We will try it and see before we pass 
judgment upon it.” 

Mr. Dorsey could not view innovations so hope- 
fully, and, though he did not really oppose this one, 
he evidently viewed it with distrust and did not 
intend to be in any wise responsible for it. When 
he showed visitors through the new building, point- 
ing out the different departments and explaining 
the branch of work for which each was intended, 
he always paused a little uncertainly over that one 
room : 

“This? Well, I don’t know as I can rightly 
give it a name ; sort of an experiment-room, I call 
it. Some new-fangled notion Mr. Holland has got 
into his head.” 

It was to an inspection of this debatable ground 
that Mr. Holland invited Petra one summer day. 

16 


242 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


11 1 want you to see it and give me the benefit of 
your opinion,” he said. 

The words included both girls, but Mr. Holland’s 
glance sought Petra, and Kitty, privately deciding 
that her own opinion would be valueless concerning 
anything pertaining to mills, pleaded a busy morn- 
ing and sent her sister to do duty for both. 

The mysterious apartment proved to be only a 
pleasant, airy room holding some comfortable chairs, 
a few small light tables and a row of bookshelves, 
empty as yet. 

“ A dining-room, noon resting-place, or whatever 
you choose to call it, for the use of the women and 
girls who bring their dinners with them,” Mr. 
Holland explained. “ Something I saw in New 
York suggested it, but it was not connected with a 
factory there, and I know Dorsey thinks that fact 
makes a vast difference and that there will soon be 
a divorce here on the ground of incompatibility. 
But it seems to me that a dinner away from the 
dust and the sight of machinery must at least be 
more enjoyable, to say nothing of a few conveni- 
ences in the way of setting a table or making a 
cup of coffee on that range in the adjoining room. 
And a quiet, comfortable place in which to rest, 
though not much in itself — ” 



The Soul of it, 


Page 242, 



THE SOUL OF IT. 


243 


“ You don’t know how much,” interposed Petra, 
with flushed cheeks and kindling eyes ; “ I do. 
And I know that a room like this will uplift the 
whole life of some of these girls. It is far more 
than a mere provision for physical comfort.” 

“ You do not think it nonsensical, then ? And 
now for suggestions.” 

From Petra’s own past — from the remembrance 
of weary days when an hour in a room like this 
would have rested mind as well as body, and have 
given fresh strength for the afternoon’s toil — there 
came to her a quick perception of all that this place 
might be made and of the additions it needed. A 
few of these she mentioned, and then her glance 
turned to the bookshelves. 

“For filling those I want to ask your help and 
Miss Kitty’s, if you will be so kind as to give it,” 
Mr. Holland said. “ You will know what to se- 
lect; I do not.” 

It was no distasteful commission, as Petra’s face 
showed more emphatically than her quiet words. 

Kitty, even with her new estimate of her sister, 
would have been somewhat surprised at the talk 
about books that followed — at Petra’s knowledge 
of the subject and at Mr. Holland’s appreciation 
of her opinion. In truth, the gentleman convers- 


244 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


ing with Petra wondered how and where this girl 
had gained so much. Not her information — it did 
not occur to him that means or opportunity had been 
lacking for that — but her independence of thought 
and her practical application of what she knew. 
There was about her an absence of self-conscious- 
ness, a straightforward earnestness and honesty, 
that interested him. 

“ What a pleasure it must be to use money as 
you are using it !” she said as they turned home- 
ward. “ Why do not more people think of such 
things — people who could do them?” 

Petra’s approval of the plan had been a pleasure, 
but at this first commendation of its author — ex- 
pressed rather by tone and glance than by words — 
his face suddenly clouded : 

“ I do not know about other people. For my- 
self— Well, when a man has more than he can 
possibly use for himself, he doesn’t deserve much 
credit for giving away a little of the surplus. 
Your Bible doesn’t count gifts that cost nothing, 
I believe?” 

“ It says, ‘ Blessed is he that considereth the 
poor.’ I think that the consideration costs more 
than the giving, and the gift isn’t usually of much 
value without it,” answered Petra, thoughtfully. 


THE SOUL OF IT. 


245 


Then the peculiar wording of her companion’s 
last sentence struck her, and she turned toward 
him with a swift question : “ My Bible, you said. 
Why mine more than yours, Mr. Holland?” 

“ You accept it, I suppose, while I — Perhaps 
I do not dare appropriate it.” 

The affectation of lightness was scarcely success- 
ful, but Mr. Holland speedily changed the conver- 
sation : 

“ Oh, we must have not only books but period- 
icals in that room. Don’t you think we ought — 
good weekly papers and some of our best maga- 
zines? Can you and Miss Kitty look over the 
list and decide what will be the most suitable?” 

Petra went home with a conviction that the new 
mill would have a soul in it, and also with some 
new ideas for her own working out. 

Kitty was deeply interested in her sister’s de- 
scription, but bewildered also : 

“ It wouldn’t seem so queer if I hadn’t known 
— or fancied I knew — Clinton Holland years ago ; 
all this is not one bit like him. But then,” she 
added, half laughing, half humbly, “I am not 
much like the Kitty he knew in those days, either 
— at least, I hope I am not, iu some ways — and 
the thought of you talking over all these plans 


246 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


with him and advising him in regard to them is 
as bewildering as any of the rest of it. You too 
have changed, Petra. There must be something 
marvelous in the air of this village.” 

Petra laughed with a happy light in her eyes. 

“Oh, we are growing; the soul is getting into 
our lives, maybe. I think,” she said, more slowly, 
“ this afternoon did show me some ways of putting 
a little more meaning into my own life.” 

The selection of those books — carried forward 
slowly and “around the edges of busy days,” as 
Kitty expressed it — was profitable work and fur- 
nished excuse and material for many a pleasant 
hour of reading and exchange of views. It was 
after an evening so spent that Kitty, looking 
through a drawer for a box of embroidery silks, 
came upon her almost forgotten diary. Taking 
up the dainty volume, she glanced here and there 
through the experiences so carefully detailed for 
the benefit of her friend Angie Bates. Her cheeks 
crimsoned as she read, and at last she tossed away 
the book with a vigorous exclamation not at all 
complimentary to herself : 

“ Little simpleton !” 

On sober second thought Kitty took up the diary 
again, however, and, deliberately tearing out all the 


THE SOUL OF IT. 


247 


written pages, carried them down as material with 
which to light Deb’s fire. 

“The blank leaves will serve for school-exer- 
cises,” she said, rather grimly, to herself ; “ I 
shall not need them for their original purpose. 
People who are really living have neither time 
nor inclination to watch themselves through a 
microscope, and microscopic glasses that make 
every mole-hill into a mountain are not the best 
possible spectacles with which to travel.” 

Through all the cheerful labor of putting the 
house in order there had been the doubts that must 
attend any untried enterprise, the fear on the part 
of Petra and Kitty that, after all, they might be 
making a mistake and investing their little capital 
in a way that would bring no return. The early 
summer banished the last of these fears, however, 
for guests came. Two or three pleasant families, 
two tired teachers in search of a quiet vacation and 
one of Mrs. Holland’s protegees occupied the rooms 
so carefully arranged, and enjoyed the fresh fruits 
and vegetables from Dick’s garden. 

That garden was a success, as Dick triumphantly 
announced many times during the summer, and the 
boy himself, prompt, energetic and enjoying his re- 


248 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


sponsibility as “ the man of the house,” was not only 
a success, but also a necessity. With his help and 
with a stout young girl in the kitchen to save Deb’s 
failiug strength in the busiest days, the work went 
forward bravely. Old Deb had scouted the idea of 
needing a helper ; but when the strong-armed dam- 
sel was fairly installed, she accepted the situation 
and ordered her about right vigorously, admitting 
to herself that it seemed “like ole times” when 
she was the “ head of somefin’ like a kitchen.” No 
one about the place was so elated over the improve- 
ments in the house and in the manner of living 
as was faithful old Deb. The grizzled head under 
the snowy turban nodded its approval, and its owner 
soliloquized in wondering gratitude : 

“ Eberyting is a workin’ an’ a twistin’ ’round, an’ 
jes’ when ye shore de worse gwine ter happen ye 
look up, an’ dere it am turn to a blessin’. De 
Lord’s ways ain’t ours, shore ’nuff, but dey’s a 
mighty sight better.” 

More than one of our circle was learning that 
lesson in those days and trying to follow that wiser 
leading. “ If we lift up to him any good honest 
work that it is ours to do, God will breathe into it 
the breath of life,” Petra had decided, and the new 
spirit in her own life was becoming more manifest 


THE SOUL OF IT. 


249 


every day. New opportunities were opening, also, 
and she was beginning to vratch for these as for 
opening doors. 

The late summer brought unexpected sojourners 
in the members of Mrs. Bradley Holland’s family. 
All but Mr. Holland himself : he had been called 
West on business that precluded his wife from ac- 
companying him ; and as Mrs. Holland the elder, 
to the silent astonishment of the household, had 
expressed a desire to visit “ Clinton’s mill,” Bar- 
bara eagerly proposed going with her. 

“ I’m afraid you will find it rather dull there, 
my dear, though really I know very little about 
the place,” Colonel Holland said, doubtfully. “ It 
may please mother. The marvel is that she should 
want to go anywhere.” 

But Barbara insisted that she preferred the quiet 
little place to any more fashionable resort, and, as 
Laurence was eager to go again and was delighted 
at the thought of introducing his stepmother to his 
favorite nooks, Colonel Holland only good-natured- 
ly shrugged his shoulders and offered no further 
protest. In truth, though he scarcely acknowl- 
edged so much to himself, he was not unwilling 
to learn something more of this new enterprise in 
which his brother had engaged. While he had 


250 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


said nothing about it, he had wondered over it not 
a little, and he arranged that his party should arrive 
at the Barracks in the morning and at an hour that 
would necessitate his waiting until afternoon to 
take his own train westward. He had, therefore, 
ample time to explore the village and to examine 
the mill, and the last he did thoroughly, Clinton 
himself acting as his guide. The elder brother 
asked a few questions and used his keen eyes well, 
but, with the exception of the one room which 
Mr. Dorsey called the “ double-distilled philanthro- 
py attachment/’ it was only an ordinary cotton-mill, 
and not a venture of sufficient magnitude to ex- 
plain why it should have engaged Clinton. 

“ Is this Dorsey some especial friend of yours — 
some one whom you wanted to establish in busi- 
ness?” the colonel asked. 

“ Dorsey ? Oh no ; he isn’t the sort of man to 
be suffering for a position : he is too practical, ener- 
getic and well posted in his particular line for that. 
I’ve known him for some time, though, and I knew 
he was just the one for this place.” 

“But what did you make such a place for? 
That’s what I don’t understand. What do you 
expect from it?” 

“ Will it not be a benefit to the village ?” 


THE SOUL OF IT. 


251 


“ Of course ; it doesn’t take a very penetrating 
mind to discover that. The sleepy little place 
seems to have wakened up at the mere prospect. 
But I was talking about the benefit to yourself.” 

“To me?” Clinton hesitated, and the answer 
came rather sadly : “ Not any that I know of. 
What of it? We do not lack money — such as 
it is — that we need to be always watching for 
more.” 

That statement did not make the matter any 
clearer to Bradley Holland, and he went on his 
way in no wise enlightened concerning “ Clint’s 
new freak,” as he termed it. 

That the mill was considered a benefit to the 
village there could be no question. Already many 
families were coming to the place in the expecta- 
tion of securing work. The stores were add- 
ing to their stock of goods, and business was 
brightening in every direction. The increase of 
population which the mill would bring made the 
erection of new dwellings also a necessity, and to 
meet this necessity a row of neat cottages had been 
planned. In the arrangement of these Mrs. Hol- 
land took an active interest, and her face and her 
manner were a constant marvel to Kitty. 

“If you had seen her as I did — so sad and 


252 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


timid, keeping all to herself, as if she had no 
part in anything — you wouldn’t wonder that I 
hardly know Grandma Holland,” she said to 
Petra. 

“ But it is a sad face yet, only that it lights up 
now and then,” commented Petra. 

“ There’s a difference — the greatest difference in 
the world,” insisted Kitty. “She isn’t half so — 
queer. I do not know what has made the change 
unless it is due to Mi's. Bradley.” 

For it occurred to Kitty as she watched the old 
lady leaning upon the arm of her daughter-in-law 
as they went out for their morning walk, and as 
she noticed the constant evidences of confidence 
and affection between them, that neither Cousin 
Maria nor herself had ever shown so much con- 
sideration for “Grandma Holland.” 

Another new discovery to Kitty was the rela- 
tionship of Mr. Kent to the Hollands. 

“ Only a distant cousin, but he knew all about 
them that day when I made my ridiculous visit 
and told him — I’m sure I don’t know what,” 
she soliloquized, with burning cheeks. 

That the elder Mrs. Holland knew and valued 
the connection was manifest by the promptness 
with which she claimed it the first Sunday after 


THE SOUL OF IT. 


253 


her arrival. When her glance first fell upon the 
face in the pulpit, she started, and after the serv- 
ice was ended she waited to meet the pastor, who 
came straight toward her with outstretched hand. 

“ John Kent ! I didn’t know you were here,” 
she said. 

“And I didn’t know you were coming,” he 
laughed. 

Barbara remembered the name and bent upon its 
owner a moment’s swift scrutiny as he was pre- 
sented to her. This, then, was the visionary man 
whose ultra notions would upset the earth ! His 
very practical sermon had not sounded like it. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE TOUCH OF THE ANGEL. 

QJUMMER blossoms and autumn winds had ful- 
^ filled their mission, and the winter’s snow was 
whirling down on the city streets. Xow and then 
a gust sweeping up from the bay caught the falling 
flakes, and, hurrying them out of their quiet course, 
sent them flying around corners and into deep door- 
ways. 

“ The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou 
hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence 
it cometh, and whither it goeth : so is every one 
that is born of the Spirit.” The words came 
naturally to Barbara, watching the scene from 
her window, for her thoughts were busy with 
the evidences, all around her in these weeks, of 
the Power, unseen but mighty, which sways hu- 
man hearts and lives. Beginning silently — who 
could say in what lonely chamber or believing 
soul ? — coming none knew how, deepening the 
earnestness of a prayer, touching cold lips with 

254 


THE TOUCH OF THE ANGEL. 


255 


fervor, passing from heart to heart, swelling into 
song, breaking into sobs, — it had grown and wi- 
dened until it swept through all the churches. 
Even those who shunned the meetings could not 
wholly escape its weighty mysterious influence, 
while to those who welcomed it it was a season 
of growth and of blessing. To Barbara the joy 
of the full room, the earnest voices and the eager 
interest made only more intense her anxiety and 
her longing for one who held aloof from it all. 
Others came; men of business, careless men of 
the world, women of fashion, were numbered 
among those who heard the heavenly call. 

Laurence had yielded his young heart early in 
the meetings, and his eyes sought those of his step- 
mother whenever prayers were offered for “ absent 
friends.” 

“ Can’t we have him with us yet, Mother Bar- 
bara ? Doesn’t ‘ whatsoever ye ask ’ mean that ?” 
he questioned. 

“‘If two of you shall agree’ — you know that 
promise — and there are more than two of us right 
here at home — grandma, you and I.” 

But as the weeks went on Barbara’s faith often 
faltered. It sometimes seemed to her that down- 
right opposition would be more hopeful than the 


256 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


courteous, smiling indifference which could remem- 
ber the services to provide that carriage or sleigh 
should be in readiness for those who chose to go, 
could listen with amiable tolerance to the accounts 
brought home, and then could calmly go on its own 
way untouched. 

“ Bradley, will you not go with us to-night ?” 
she urged — an invitation that in one form or 
another had often before been given. 

“ Oh, not to-night, my dear. Excuse me, but I 
have a business engagement this evening that I do 
not know how to postpone. Some other time, if I 
must go. But really, Barbara, you know I don’t 
enjoy such things as you do. I suppose it sounds 
very dreadful,” with a laugh, “ but it seems to be a 
constitutional weakness of mine. Can’t you call 
it a mere matter of taste and let me gang my ain 
gait ?” 

“ A mere matter of taste whether our paths are 
to lie together or to separate for ever ? Oh, Brad- 
ley !” 

“ But that, you see, is just what I don’t believe — 
that doctrine about endless separation, and all those 
terrible things that the preachers harrow up your 
soul with.” 

“ What do you believe ?” she asked. 


THE TOUCH OF THE ANGEL. 


257 


“ Believe that my wife is the best little woman 
in the world, and that she is welcome to go to all 
the meetings she likes, and that I will go with her 
some time if it will afford her any pleasure and if 
she will kindly excuse me this time. How will 
that do for a creed ?” 

But when the light touch had vanished from his 
arm and his wife had left the library, Bradley 
found that the subject had not departed with her. 
"What did he believe ? The light answer he had 
given would not quite suffice. After all, why did 
he so persistently refuse to go with her? Was it 
possible that he really feared those things which he 
affected to despise? He did not enjoy them, he 
had said, but neither did he enjoy the art-lectures 
which his wife valued so highly, nor some of the 
classical concerts in which she delighted, yet that 
fact had not prevented his accompanying her and 
feeling rather proud of her appreciation of fine art. 
Why did he so shrink from going with her now ? 
Had he a lurking dread of this influence which 
was swaying others? Was he really so weak as 
that? He scornfully repudiated the suggestion, 
but it was because he could not forget it, and to 
assure himself of his own strength and superiority 
to such folly, that the next evening found him 
17 


258 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


without any engagement and “at Mrs. Holland’s 
service/’ as he playfully announced. His look and 
his tone, a certain dancing light in his eyes as they 
met hers, heavily taxed Barbara’s drooping faith 
and boded ill for any effect the meeting might have, 
but she could only accept his offered companionship 
and leave the rest with God. 

The bright room was well filled, the sermon was 
clear and forceful, appealing rather to judgment 
and reason than to emotion, yet to Barbara there 
seemed an awful solemnity in the reiterated ques- 
tion, “ What shall I do then with Jesus which is 
called Christ?” Tremulous voices around her told 
that other hearts were touched, but her own heart 
sank as she stole a glance at the cool, imperturbable 
face beside her. She could not see deeper than the 
face ; she could not see how the soul rallied all its 
old arguments, ranged them in force and felt but 
would not admit their weakness — how it was vexed 
at its own unrest and at the awakening it had 
dared, and longed to escape from the place and that 
troublesome questioning. 

As Bradley and his wife passed out of the church 
Bradley threw back his shoulders and remarked, 

“ It seems good to get into the fresh air again.” 
After a moment he added carelessly, “ Not a par- 


THE TOUCH OF THE ANGEL. 


259 


ticularly bad speaker — I’ve heard worse — if only 
he had not such a rasping voice.” 

That was Mr. Holland’s sole comment, and his 
wife, her tears hidden only by the darkness, dared 
not trust herself to answer it. She was not a little 
surprised, therefore, when he presented himself the 
next evening in overcoat and muffler, ready to go 
with her. 

“ Oh, if I am to win a martyr’s crown at all, I 
may as well have one of respectable size,” he re- 
plied to the inquiring glance that Barbara could not 
wholly veil. 

The truth was that it had been a troubled day. 
The old teachings heard in early life which Bradley 
thought he had long since put aside as antiquated 
and outgrown came thronging back, and he could 
not push them away as old superstitions. What 
should he do with Jesus ? for he must do something 
— must settle what he believed and disbelieved. 
And then, when by long-practiced sophistries he 
had argued down the subject and turned from it,* 
it would not stay settled, but straightway faced him 
again. Before the day was done he wished that he 
had been cowardly enough to have stayed at home 
the night before, and had let the whole subject 
alone. Then, as he detected himself in that wish, 


260 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


he took himself fiercely to task. Was he so foolish 
as to be worried over these things if they were not 
true ? And if they were true — Oh, what then ? 
So weary of the conflict within him he grew that he 
sought the meeting the second night to drown out 
the effects of the first. A subtle hope of hearing 
something that he could disbelieve and antagonize 
lured him, while he tried to flatter himself that his 
going again was proof that he was investigating 
boldly and fairly. 

Poor Self! it is so seldom treated quite honestly 
by any of us! 

Whatever others found that evening, there was 
no comfort for Colonel Holland. Tortured with 
questions, convictions and forebodings, yet vexed 
at his own unrest and battling fiercely against it, 
he silently left the church. The affectation of lev- 
ity was gone, but he would open his heart to no 
one. For a day or two he plunged deeply into 
business, forsook the meetings and vainly tried to 
forget them; then, in desperation, he turned to 
them again. Sorely troubled he evidently was, but 
determined to solve the problem in his own way 
and alone. Loving eyes watched him as the days 
went by, loving hearts prayed for him, but no 
human hand could take part in the conflict. 


THE TOUCH OF THE ANGEL . 


261 


To Barbara the struggle grew unendurable. One 
night, when Colonel Holland had shut himself in 
the library and she heard his slow pacing to and 
fro far into the night, she went down to him. 

“ Bradley, let me share it,” she pleaded, tremu- 
lously. “ How can I help suffering with you ? Do 
not try to shut it away from me.” 

Bradley shook his head gloomily : 

“ You cannot help me — not even' you, Barbara. 
‘ Every man must bear his own burden f wasn’t 
that the text the preacher gave us the other night ? 
Each soul alone must settle its own destiny. It is 
true.” 

11 ‘ Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall 
sustain thee f that too is true. Have you forgotten 
the One who asks the weary and heavy laden to 
come to him? Surely you believe him?” 

“I do believe; that is the trouble of it,” he 
groaned. “ If I could only disbelieve !” 

“ Ho, no !” She interrupted the wild words 
with a shudder. “ You do not think what you are 
saying, dear. Bring the burden to Christ, and he 
will give you rest.” 

“ But I cannot bring that only ; if I seek to 
leave that at his feet, I must leave everything there 
— everything. I am not so blind as to fancy that 


262 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


I can make a halfway surrender ; it must be all or 
nothing.” 

“ And why should it not be all ? What would 
you keep back?” she asked. 

“ Barbara, you do not understand ; I cannot tell 
you how it looks to me. It is all my past, all that 
my life has built up, that must go if once I turn my 
face in that direction. Fortune, position, business 
relations, — I can keep none of them.” Then, at 
his wife’s questioning glance, the seething thought, 
pent up so long, broke down the barriers of silence: 
“ I may as well tell you all, Barbara. It is the old 
question — mother’s question — that I have put out 
of sight all the years, that I would not own had an 
existence in any practical brain. But this religion 
of Jesus Christ — it isn’t the wisdom of this world, 
and it cuts a straight path through arguments, 
policy and self-interests. I cannot build this new 
life on the old foundation ; I will not be hypocriti- 
cal enough to pretend to try. And yet to give up 
all the old ambition and plans, all the work of my 
life ! It is hard ! There are others to consider, 
too.” 

“ Not those nearest to you,” she interrupted, 
quickly. “ What could all the treasures of this 
world be to them as weighed against yourself?” 


THE TOUCH OF THE ANGEL. 


263 


It was the old awful problem that our Lord has 
sent down through the centuries for each one to an- 
swer for himself : “ What shall it profit a man if 
he gain the whole world and lose his own soul ?” 

To this man, proud, ambitious and successful, 
renunciation was bitter. As he had said, not even 
his wife could understand all that it was to him 
and all that it involved. 

“ Do not wait for me, Barbara,” he said, at last ; 
“go and rest. I cannot sleep, and I must fight 
this out some way — for myself.” 

Barbara could not sleep, but she could pray, and 
in another room a gray head, bowed beside the cra- 
dle that had held Bradley Holland in his babyhood, 
breathed the prayer that had ascended from beside 
it then — that had never ceased to ascend through 
all the years : “ God save my boy !” 

The next morning came bright and clear — a 
winter morning with dazzling sunshine on the 
snow — and Laurence’s boyish face reflected some- 
thing of its brightness as he smiled into his step- 
mother’s troubled eyes. 

“ I think it will all come right to-day, Mother 
Barbara,” he whispered. 

“ Why ?” she asked ; for there had been no sign 


264 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


of peace or of comfort in the gloomy brow with 
which her husband had bidden her good-bye when 
he went away to his office. 

“I don’t know why, only I feel so sure of it. 
I felt so when first I opened my eyes this morn- 
ing — that this would be his birthday. There will 
be joy in heaven, but it doesn’t seem as if the 
angels can be quite so glad as we shall be, does 
it?” 

Barbara clasped the hand that was resting on 
her shoulder. The boy had grown doubly dear 
to her in the last few weeks. He was very happy 
in his fresh young Christian discipleship, which 
was simple and natural — that of a true boy. He 
had not been transformed into a model or a teach- 
er; he had lost nothing of his vivacity or of his 
bounding life, but he had turned with frank, lov- 
ing loyalty to a new Friend and Master and was 
trying to obey his will. 

“ I don’t suppose he wants me to be one of his 
deacons or elders, but just one of his boys,” he had 
explained to his stepmother. 

Barbara looked up at Laurence as he stood be- 
side her now, and, moved by a sudden impulse, 
laid her cheek upon the hand she held and spoke 
the words that were in her heart : 


THE TOUCH OF THE ANGEL. 


265 


“ You are a great comfort to me, Laurence.” 

“ Am I ?” The bright face grew brighter still. 
“Fm glad of that, for you have been 

1 The sunlight, moonlight, starlight, 

Been the firelight of my people.’ 

Wasn’t that what you read to me out of ‘Hiawatha’ 
the other day ? You have made it so much pleas- 
anter here ever since you came, and then” — he 
paused and the glad voice dropped reverently — 
“you led me to Him, you know.” 

“ Laurence ! I did not know that.” A light 
flashed over her face at the thought. 

“ Yes ; I was thinking of it — you had made me 
think of it — long before the meetings began.” 

Laurence had his cap and scarf in his hand, and 
had only stopped for a parting word with Barbara 
before he went off on a coasting expedition. She 
watched him a moment or two later drawing his 
sled after him down the street — a very boy, and 
yet his hopeful words had raised her drooping 
faith, and the assurance he had given her ran like 
a strain of music through all the morning’s duties. 

The sweetness was still lingering when Barbara 
became conscious of hurried voices in the hall, a 
little stir and bustle that denoted something un- 


266 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


usual. She had heard a summons at the door and 
wondered vaguely that no caller was ushered in, 
and the next moment had forgotten it. Now the 
agitated tones and a quick exclamation drew her 
attention again, but she had no time for conjecture 
before a servant hastened to her door : 

“Mrs. Holland—” 

The break in the voice, the half-suppressed want- 
ing to “ tell her carefully ” that reached Barbara 
from the hall beyond, thrilled her with a sudden 
terror. She threw open the door and faced an ex- 
cited group. 

“ It’s Master Laurence, ma’am,” said the old 
housekeeper, answering the question the white lips 
could scarcely frame. “He’s hurt — not badly I 
hope, but they’re bringing him home. He was run 
over by a heavy wagon or sled.” 

The man who brought the news interposed and 
briefly told the story. A large party of boys were 
out coasting on a quiet street which for the most 
part had been given up to them, teams either taking 
another road or good-naturedly keeping out of the 
track which the boys had worn smooth. But as 
Laurence went flying down the hill, followed by 
two or three others, a heavily-loaded sled had sud- 
denly turned a corner, and, reaching the middle of 


THE TOUCH OF THE ANGEL. 


267 


the street, had stopped directly in the track. A 
score of voices shouted to the driver, but through 
either stupidity or malice he refused to move, and 
in a moment the light sleds dashed against the bar- 
rier and were overturned or broken by the violent 
collision. Some of the boys had time to throw 
themselves off and escape harm ; two or three were 
severely bruised, but Laurence not only had struck 
the sled with fearful force, but also had been hurled 
by the blow under the feet of the horses. 

“ Pm afraid it’s pretty bad, ma’am,” said the 
man, pityingly. “ Still, a body can’t always tell.” 

But when the young form that had gone forth 
so blithely was brought back crushed and helpless, 
Barbara knew there was no hope of recovery ; she 
read it in the grave faces of the physicians even 
before they replied to the father’s agonized ques- 
tioning : 

“ We can relieve his suffering, that is all ; there 
is nothing more that can be done.” 

Laurence seemed to understand his condition 
from the time he had been brought home. 

“ They cannot help me,” he whispered ; and 
then, as his eyes turned pityingly from his father to 
his stepmother, a faint gleam of the old brightness 
came to them. “ I didn’t think it was coming this 


268 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


way — what I told you of, you know — but it’s all 
right.” 

All thought that the sufferer dropped into un- 
consciousness then, but later he looked up again, 
when only the three who loved him best were be- 
side him : 

" Don’t mourn so. It isn’t so very hard to go ; 
it straightens out — some things,” he said, feebly. 
“ I had come to believe as grandma does — as you 
do,” he pressed Barbara’s hand that held his own — 
“ about the business that brought the money. I 
knew I never could take any part in it, but there 
were papa and Uncle Clint, and it was all so mixed 
up, and going to be so hard by and by. This is a 
way out of it all.” 

“ Oh, my boy ! And it was of you I thought, 
for you I hesitated,” groaned the father. 

“ For me?” The failing voice wonderingly utter- 
ed the words and then slowly seemed to gather their 
meaning. “Was I barring the way? Then you 
will yield to Him now?” 

The murmur of assent was choked and broken, 
but the boy caught it, and there was a note of 
triumphant gladness in the next words — his last : 

“ I told you it would come right to-day, dear 
Mother Barbara.” 


THE TOUCH OF THE ANGEL. 


2f>9 


So Bradley Holland’s story was that of one of 
old. He lingered with his treasures and would not 
seek safety until, u the Lord being merciful unto 
him,” an angel a laid hold upon his hand and 
brought him forth.” Alas that it must needs be 
the angel of death! 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A WINTER EVENING . 

fTIHE last echo of the restless feet and the merry 
“*■ voices had vanished from the little school- 
house at the cross-roads, and Kitty, with a final 
glance at blackboards and desks, to see that her 
domain was in order, turned the key in the bat- 
tered door and faced the wintry world outside. 
It was a long and rather a dreary walk that lay 
between her and home, but she was thinking too 
busily to remember that as she stepped briskly out 
into the snowy country road. So fully occupied 
was she that she did not notice a light cutter that 
followed her, nor hear a voice that called until her 
name had been thrice repeated : 

“ Miss Kitty !” 

It was Mr. Kent’s sleigh, and as it reached 
Kitty’s side she became aware of the occupant’s 
presence and gladly accepted the invitation to 
ride. 

“ I am accustomed to having the whole country- 
270 


A WINTER EVENING. 


271 


side to myself at this hour, aud so was not think- 
ing of the pleasure of company, ” she explained. 

“ But you were very intently thinking of some- 
thing else; that was evident,” laughed Mr. Kent. 
“ May I ask what you found so absorbing ?” 

“ Johnny Mix — as a commentary on the Bible.” 

Kitty gave the answer smilingly, and Mr. Kent 
doubtfully studied over it a moment, then shook 
his head : 

“One of your boys, I suppose? I know the 
Mixes by tribe and by family, but I can’t quite 
place Master Johnny.” 

“ That’s the trouble about him — getting him so 
placed that he will stay. I have been trying it 
with doubtful success ever since I had the honor 
of his acquaintance,” admitted Kitty. “ He is not 
one of the larger boys who come to study, nor one 
of the little boys whose failings can be excused on 
the ground that they are full of life and do not 
know any better. Johnny is at an awkward age 
halfway between — tow-headed, freckle-faced, with 
a deep scowl in his forehead that looks studious, but 
doesn’t mean study ; at least, not any study con- 
nected with his books. He has wonderful pockets, 
and they hold almost everything that is of no use 
and that is very detrimental to a well-ordered 


272 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


schoolroom — bent pins for the unwary, fish-worms 
to adorn the desks of the girls, and an array of 
spools, spindles, sticks and strings that form a 
wonderful machine for attracting general atten- 
tion when mine is distracted. You can scarcely 
imagine anything that cannot come out of those 
pockets. But his head is an entirely different 
kind of receptacle, if it deserves that name; I 
can scarcely draw anything out of that even after 
I have felt positively sure that I had put some- 
thing in.” 

Mr. Kent laughed : 

“ I think I know Johnny now; at least, I have 
seen the species. But how is he a commentator ?” 

“ A commentary,” corrected Kitty, “ and a very 
unconscious one, I am sure.” Then face and voice 
grew grave as she said, “It was a verse in the 
psalm we recited this evening that made me think 
of it : ‘ He leadeth me in the paths of righteous- 
ness for his name’s sake.’ I think I have always 
had a secret wish that those last four words had 
been left out — those and others like them in the 
Bible. Of course I knew that we were unworthy 
and did not deserve that simply for our sakes God 
should do all he does for us, yet to think that it 
was done for his own sake, ‘ for his own glory/ 


A WINTER EVENING. 


273 


took all the sense of tender care out of it, and I 
have not liked to stop over such words. But all 
at once, this evening, it occurred to me that they 
might mean something a little like my relation to 
Johnny. He is dull and trying, making a slight 
effort to improve and do right one day, and the 
next seeming to have lost all desire to be anything 
but a vexation. But I cannot fluctuate as he does 
— care for him one day and leave him to himself 
the next — through all his moods and varyings. I 
must still do my best for Johnny. I cannot al- 
ways do it because he is what he is or deserves it, 
but I do it because I am what I am — older, wiser 
and above him. For my own sake I cannot do 
less than my best for him — not because I am seek- 
ing any glory for myself instead of his good, but 
because if I could neglect or retaliate I should be 
on his level instead of being his teacher and helper. 
I fear I am not making my meaning very clear.” 
Kitty hesitated. “ I was thinking that might be a 
little like the way Christ keeps on caring for us — 
because it is in the very nature of his office and 
himself that he should do so. He is what he is ; 
there is a divine noblesse oblige about it, and we 
are a great deal safer because we are kept ‘ for his 
name’s sake.’” 


274 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ ‘ If we believe not, yet he abideth faithful ; he 
cannot deny himself/ ” quoted Mr. Kent. 

“ Yes, that is it. I wonder I never thought to 
link that verse with those others,” answered Kitty, 
eagerly; “ it would have explained them.” 

Mr. Kent smiled ; he was thinking how the 
girl’s whole spiritual nature was developing, and 
that she was herself a commentary on the wisdom 
of Providence. But he only said, 

“ I suppose I may as well confess at once, Miss 
Kitty, that I did not exactly happen along this 
particular road at this particular hour : I was hop- 
ing to find you, and I want your help — as usual. 
How can we get the children from those two Ger- 
man families over beyond the mill into Sunday- 
school ? And what shall we do with them if we do 
get them ?” 

The new mill and the new people it brought had 
greatly changed the village, and, while farmers and 
tradesmen hailed the increased growth and activity 
as a great increase of prosperity, the watchful pas- 
tor felt that the change held, also, its elements of 
danger unless this fresh material were properly 
assimilated. New care and new responsibility had 
come to him with each of these new souls that 
came within the possible range of his influence. 


A WINTER EVENING. 


275 


The old village in its quiet had known no float- 
ing population : the members of its community 
were the descendants of those whose names were on 
the stones in its churchyard ; but the families which 
the mill had drawn to the place were quite outside 
of the local history and traditions. A few of them 
were foreigners, and altogether they formed a dif- 
ferent class of people. The Sunday-school, which 
had greatly enlarged, had also grown heterogeneous, 
and here Mr. Kent found Kitty’s aid invaluable. 
The tact which had made her successful in her little 
kingdom at the cross-roads fitted her for this wider 
service, and, moreover, numbers of the new-comers 
were soon enrolled among her daily pupils, and so 
were more easily reached by her influence than by 
any other. Through them was a way to their 
homes, and so more and more the pastor was com- 
ing to Kitty with his plans and his problems. The 
work which she had so ignorantly wished to under- 
take when she first returned home was really com- 
ing to her hands now, but so exceedingly practical 
and commonplace it seemed as it came to her day 
by day that she failed to recognize it as in any way 
connected with her old dreams. And the dream 
itself was forgotten. If she could still have fancied 
herself a lady-patroness, the work she was now 


276 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


doing would have been impossible. She looked up 
brightly at Mr. Kent’s question : 

“ My sister told me something about one of them 
this morning that may open a way to reach them. 
A woman, the mother of one of these families, 
came to the house yesterday to see if there could 
be a place found in the mill for a niece who has 
lately come to live with her : she seemed to think, 
as Petra had the oversight of the mill-library and 
reading-room, that she must have something to do 
with giving work to the girls. The woman spoke 
but little English, and appeared so disappointed, 
without being able fully to understand when Petra 
tried to explain that she had nothing to do with 
that matter, that Petra finally promised to see Mr. 
Dorsey herself. Fortunately, he has room for 
another, or will have next week, and Petra asked 
Dick to carry them the word this evening or in the 
morning. To-morrow is Saturday, and I can offer 
my services as messenger.” 

“ And after carrying such tidings they will 
scarcely refuse any request you may make?” sup- 
plemented Mr. Kent. “ I think we may consider 
that settled.” 

There were other points to settle, however, and 
the sober gray horse had reached the Barracks gate 


A WINTER EVENING. 


277 


while Kitty and Mr. Kent were still busily talk- 
ing. Petra met them there ; she had just returned 
from the village, and waited when she saw them 
coming, making, so Kitty thought, a wondrously 
pretty picture as she stood in the old gateway. 
The brown dress and hat were very simple, but 
they were faultless in taste and finished with a 
touch of crimson that was exceedingly becoming to 
the dark, bright face. The young erect figure was 
not ungraceful in its suggestion of strength, and 
as Kitty's beauty-loving eye took in the whole 
scene — the quiet road, the old house beyond and the 
gate, the snowy earth and the gray sky with a 
golden belt marking the sunset — it seemed to her 
that Petra fitted into it perfectly. But many things 
that had once been out of harmony in Kitty's world 
were fitting into place now, and for some reason — 
could that long talk have had anything to do with 
it? — the world seemed a very pleasant place that 
evening. There was a soft flush on her cheeks and 
a happy light in her eyes as she greeted her sister. 

Petra, practical maiden, had no thought of either 
making or discovering pictures just then ; her head 
was full of weightier matters. Ben Farney had 
been drinking again, and had been away from the 
mill for a day or two, she told Mr. Kent. Prob- 


278 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


ably he would lose his place — he deserved to, in- 
deed — but what would become of his poor wife 
and the children? 

“ She sent one of the little girls to the library to 
ask me to stop there on my way home, but I could 
say little to comfort her, and I really had no advice 
to give. Mr. Dorsey cannot be expected to keep 
such a man ; he says Ben is not fit to be trusted 
with a team.” 

“ If he could give him something else to do — 
something inside the mill — ” began Mr. Kent, re- 
flectively. 

The gray horse seemed to know the tone, or per- 
haps he recognized the subject and had learned that 
it boded long consultation. He began to paw the 
snow impatiently, and manifested his opiuion that 
it was time to move homeward ; it was nonsense to 
attempt to discuss such questions at a gate. The 
latter conclusion speedily impressed itself upon the 
other members of the party, and it was decided that 
Mr. Kent should drive home and bring his mother 
back to tea, over which they could talk at leisure, 
and, also, have the benefit of Mrs. Kent’s coun- 
sel. It was Petra who gave this invitation. 

Kitty hurried into the house and up to her own 
room to rearrange her dress and her hair, but from 


A WINTER EVENING. 


279 


her window she watched the sleigh with its soli- 
tary occupant flying down the road. 

“He is the noblest man I ever knew, and I 
am not half good enough,” she whispered, with 
thoughtful face. 

Petra carried to Deb the notice of expected guests, 
and the old woman smoothed her white apron with 
an air of dignity and remarked, 

“ What’s ter hender der cornin’, Miss Pete? Yo’ 
needn’t worry ’bout no comp’ny long’s I’se here. 
What mo’ dey gwine ter want ’n some ob my muf- 
fins ’long ob tea an’ peaches an’ cake an’ — •” 

Petra laughingly cut short the recital of the bill 
of fare by making her escape from the kitchen, but 
Deb listened to the retreating steps with a satisfied 
nod of her head, and muttered, 

“ Goes flyin’ ’bout de house ’nough sight lighter 
dese days. ’Pears like ole times, wid ministers an’ 
folkses cornin’ an’ goin’.” 

Petra passed into the pleasant front room, 
dropped the curtains over the windows, stirred the 
open fire into a brighter glow and drew her grand- 
father’s chair into the corner he liked best. 

The old man greatly enjoyed these social even- 
ings. When the family first talked of opening the 
house to boarders for the summer, Petra had feared 


280 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


that seeing strangers about the old place would 
trouble her grandfather, but the new faces at the 
table and the occasional pleasant gatherings in the 
parlor had served to interest him instead. The 
improvements in the place, and especially in the 
family fortune, had gratified him ; and if, with the 
pathetic tenacity of age, he clung to old idols and 
beliefs and referred to all desirable changes as 
wrought “ since little Kitty came home,” Petra felt 
no inclination to combat the statement. So many 
things had come through Kitty’s presence and her 
own work had so grown and changed in the last 
two years that she looked back wonderingly. That 
room in the mill which she had visited as some- 
thing entirely unconnected with her own life had 
been really an open door into a new field that had 
busied heart, hand and brain. The library, selected 
and arranged, needed somebody to take charge of 
it, especially as the original plan had soon enlarged 
its dimensions, and instead of a few shelves filled 
for leisure hours grew into a library for village use. 
The cottages in which Mrs. Holland had taken 
such an interest also fell naturally to Petra’s care, 
and, while this new work proved both remunera- 
tive and congenial, she found that she had no need 
to search for “ the soul of it.” That part, indeed — 


A WINTER EVENING. 


281 


the responsibility, the burden of care for other lives, 
the feeling that it was the Master’s work that her 
weak, girlish hands were holding — often pressed 
heavily and made her long, as to-night, to take 
counsel with those more experienced. So it hap- 
pened that the circle which presently gathered about 
the fire was no unusual one, and the conversation 
soon widened its range to all the new part of the 
village, its needs, capabilities and possibilities. 

Mrs. Holland had made some plans for the com- 
ing year, and Kitty was speaking of these when 
Dick came in from Squire Gynne’s office. The old 
squire’s growing infirmities brought constantly in- 
creasing work to Dick both in and out of the office, 
and he was growing tall and manly, with quite the 
air of a man of business. He brought a letter for 
Kitty, and as she glanced at the familiar postmark 
she exclaimed, 

“ This may give some more definite information ; 
it is from grandma. Probably, though, Cousin 
Bradley has addressed it,” she added, scanning the 
envelope more carefully. 

Deb announced supper, however, and the letter 
was laid aside unopened, and remembered only an 
hour later, when the conversation recalled it. 

“ Oh, we were going to see whether Mrs. Hoi- 


282 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


land sends any word about the work here,” said 
Kitty. 

But as Kitty’s eyes hastily scanned the page the 
smile fled from her lips and her cheek paled, for 
across the cheerful, busy planning for the coming 
years suddenly fell the shadow of that presence 
before which human hopes and human plans are 
powerless. The letter brought word that Laurence 
was dead. Later in the evening, when they had 
talked and wondered, questioned and reread the 
meagre intelligence in the shocked, pitying, tender 
way that friends will, Kitty said thoughtfully, 

“ This may change many things here. It was 
because Laurence was here that his uncle Clinton 
came, in the first place, and I thought last summer, 
when Cousin Bradley went over the mill so care- 
fully, that perhaps he too was growing interested 
in it ; but the place is so associated with Laurence 
that they may all feel that they cannot bear to come 
here again, and in that case it may affect the carry- 
ing out of some projects — or, at least, the forming 
of others that would have been a benefit to the 
j people here.” 

There was a touch of anxiety in Kitty’s tone, for 
our hearts are wont to follow where our thought 
and our labor go, and the interests of these people 


A WINTER EVENING. 


283 


were growing dear to Kitty. But the pastor, who 
held them closer still, answered quietly : 

“ It may be a bar, and it may be an open door. 
God knows. We cannot tell which it is until his 
providence declares it, but often that which seems 
to us to be a sudden barrier in our way proves to 
be but his messenger to open a wider path. His 
thoughts are not ours, and it is a comfort to know 
that all real good for ourselves or others, all the 
opportunities we need, are safe, beyond all losing in 
His hands ‘ who openeth and no man shutteth, and 
shutteth and no man openeth. , ” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

ANSWERED. 


“ TT must all be changed now.” 

The white flowers — cross and lyre, anchor 
and pillow — had withered on the grave whose 
fresh earth they vainly tried to hide, and the work 
of the world must go on again. Weeks had gone 
by, and there was a promise of spring in the soft 
breath of the wind that came through the office 
window where the colonel was sitting. He had 
summoned his brother for a long talk, and had 
slowly explained, so far as words could be made 
to do so, the change in views, feelings and pur- 
poses that must now be wrought out into life. 

“ It must all be changed. I have dreaded to 
say this, Clinton, because our business interests 
have been so interwoven all through the years, 
and the first venture has so many ramifications 
now that separation will be difficult.” 

“ Why separate, then ?” asked Clinton ; he had 
listened very quietly, saying but little. 

284 


ANSWERED. 


285 


“ Because we must. I must get away from all 
connection, even the slightest, with the traffic which 
I — detest!” the last word came slowly and with 
emphasis. “ I suppose that sounds strange to you, 
and fanatical, but it is true. You do not know all 
it has cost me. Importing, storing, as well as all 
connection, direct or indirect, with manufacture or 
sale, — I must be rid of it all. I am afraid it will 
seem to you, Clinton, that I am sacrificing or im- 
periling your interests, but I will agree to any 
division you choose.” 

“But suppose I want to continue the partner- 
ship?” 

The colonel shook his head : 

“ I feared you would feel so, but you do not un- 
derstand — ” 

“Perhaps you do not understand,” interrupted 
Clinton, quietly. “ What if I want a partnership 
in this very thing — the undoing, so far as possible, 
of the wrong that has been done ? I suppose that is 
what you mean ? Why not ask me to go with you 
on the new road, Bradley ? Heaven only knows 
how weary and heartsick I am of the other way.” 

The colonel had arisen and was pacing the floor, 
but he paused abruptly aud faced his brother : 

“ Clinton ! You never told me J” 


286 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“ No. It was cowardly, I suppose, but I knew 
how you felt about it. The business had grown so 
complicated, our interests were so entangled, and I 
had no clear idea of what I could do, scarcely of 
what I wished to do. It was not conviction so 
much as dissatisfaction and disgust. I had not 
reached the point of making a way out of it, 
and for your sake I said nothing.” 

The colonel's eyes were dim, but his face lost in 
that moment something of the sadness it had worn 
since Laurence died. He held out his hand to 
meet his brother's in a strong, close grasp, then 
silently walked away to a distant window. 

“ Together, then,'' he said, returning at last to 
his seat. “ That clears the path of what I dreaded 
most — of all that I really shrank from. But it is 
strange to think that we are still of one accord and 
yet have changed so radically on this entire sub- 
ject.” 

“ The dear old mother,” answered Clinton, softly. 
“ She has prayed the whole fabric down. I have 
felt her prayers these last years as something that 
was slowly undermining the foundations on which 
I was building — an invisible power that was against 
me ; and I could not rid myself of it, though I 
tried to neither believe nor yield.” 


ANSWERED. 


287 


“ Was that the secret of the new mill?” Brad- 
ley suddenly asked. 

“ Yes ; I wanted something away from all the 
other — something clean.” 

There was long and earnest planning, with busy 
days over papers and ledgers, before many outward 
changes could be made. The evil growth that 
might at first have been easily eradicated had 
now spread its tentacles far and wide, and the 
necessary surgery was slow and difficult. Never- 
theless, it went forward. 

The old distillery out at was closed — “ for 

repairs,” the villagers said, “or for putting in some 
improvements in machinery.” Some suggested that 
it had been sold, and wondered that “the Hollands, 
with all their money, should have kept that old 
place so long.” The supposition of a sale was 
strengthened by the fact that the man who had 
had charge of the business was going away. He 
knew very little about any changes that were to 
be made, and was very reticent concerning that 
little ; but, so far as he was concerned personally, 
Colonel Holland had offered him a better place 
elsewhere, and he was going. For weeks the 
buildings were closed, and the people of the 
vicinity idly exchanged opinions and surmises re- 


288 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


garding the reason; but when the} 7 were opened 
again, the mystery, instead of being solved, had 
only deepened, for nearly every trace of the manu- 
facture that had been carried on there had disap- 
peared. Vats, presses, everything connected with 
the process of distilling, had been taken down and 
carried away, and the supplies stored there had 
vanished as completely as if the earth had swal- 
lowed them up — as, indeed, it had. Then the 
building was sold for other purposes, and a new 
industry was started there. 

“But if the Hollands wanted to close out, they 
might have let some of the folks around here have 
a chance at the stock. It would have paid them 
better than it did to take it off — though dear knows 
when or how they did that without anybody find- 
ing out,” grumbled one old farmer, echoing the 
sentiments of a few others ; but there were many 
who heartily sympathized with an old deacon who 
said, 

“ Well, I never could sing, but, I declare for’t, 
when I pass that place there’s one line of a hymn 
that just naturally sings itself — that one about ‘Re- 
joice to see the curse removed.’ ” 

When it had all been changed and the curiosity 
and the questioning had had time to die away, there 


ANSWERED. 


289 


came quietly to the little town one day an elderly 
lady who was considered a stranger. So many 
years had passed that her face and her form were 
unrecognized by any who might once have known 
them, and she was able to visit undisturbed the old 
familiar places. She looked long at the distillery- 
building as she slowly passed it, pain and thanks- 
giving mingling in the tears that dimmed her eyes. 
A little cottage, brown and weather-stained, stood 
not far distant, and, though it had lost all the trim- 
ness and beauty of its youth, she lingered at its gate, 
and when a bright-eyed boy appeared asked for a 
drink of water from the well. 

“ And she didn’t seem very thirsty, after all,” 
the boy reported as he returned to his companions. 
“ Guess she only wanted an excuse to sit down on 
the steps and rest a little.” 

But the stranger lingered longest at a quiet spot 
quite outside the town, and almost forsaken now 
since the bustling little place had grown away from 
it of late years, and had its more modern cemetery 
in another direction. This was only a country 
burying-ground, most of its stones bent and gray 
with time, the lush grass waving untrodden around 
the sleepers and a tangle of wild roses growing at 
will and flinging down showers of pale pink petals. 

19 


290 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS . 


She brushed aside the soft grass that grew about 
the stone she sought, and scanned the familiar let- 
ters : “John Holland.” 

“ Oh, John, at last !” she whispered. “ Do you 
know that the answer has come at last, and that 
mine eyes have been gladdened with the sight of 
His salvation ?” 

Who shall tell how memory journeyed backward 
that day and what scenes passed before the eyes 
that, looking far away, saw neither flitting cloud- 
shadow nor falling roses ? Old and gray-haired, the 
lady sat there, and it was a trembling, wrinkled 
hand that softly smoothed with slow caressing 
motion the grave at her side, but her thoughts were 
busy with the days of her youth, with the happi- 
ness and the pain of earlier years. The faint, sweet 
breath of the flowers, the clear call of the birds, the 
tap of the woodpecker’s hammer and the faintly 
heard swish of a scythe in a distant meadow only 
added to the spell, and more vividly recalled the 
old happy days before sorrow came. When the 
burden borne so long had been lifted at last, she 
had felt an intense desire to revisit the old home. 
It had seemed to the overcharged heart that only 
here, where the anguished prayer first began, could 
the full thanksgiving find expression. But now 


ANSWERED. 


291 


words failed ; some lines Barbara had sung ran as 
an undercurrent through her thought: 

“He leads us on 
Through all the unquiet years ; 

Past all our dreamland hopes and doubts and fears 
He guides our steps. Through all the tangled maze 
Of sin, of sorrow and o’erclouded days 
We know his will is done; 

And still He leads us on.” 

Through all those weary years when her cry seemed 
hopeless and the granting of her prayer wellnigh 
impossible, when she deemed every circumstance 
adverse and saw in every new event a fresh barrier, 
—even then and through all these things God was 
working out his gracious answer. No, she could- 
not speak her joy and gratitude as she remembered 
it all ; but God understood the silence. 

Barbara, visiting friends at a little distance, met 
Mrs. Holland at the station in the evening, as had 
been arranged. She noted with a tender smile the 
peace that rested on the aged face. Life’s long 
stormy day was almost over and the promise was 
now verified : “ At evening-time it shall be light.” 

The hours so full of retrospect to the older lady 
had passed very differently to Barbara. To her 


292 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


it had been a day of work instead of memory — 
of looking forward, instead of backward ; but it 
had left its brightness also on her face. The 
light in her eyes was the softened joy that shines 
through tears indeed, but it was very deep. Every 
room in the great beautiful house missed Laurence; 
everywhere were reminders of his presence — a book 
where he had left it, a cap where the careless hands 
had tossed it — that brought a swift rush of tears. 
Barbara had not known until now, when she missed 
him, how dear he had grown. And when she 
looked into the father’s eyes and read his grief, 
the pain seemed sometimes almost too great to be 
borne. Yet through it all there came to her often 
the w r ords Laurence himself had spoken. They had 
been talking one day of the desire that pressed so 
heavily on both their hearts, and to the boy’s trust- 
ful “ It will come,” Barbara’s sorely tried faith 
had answered forebodingly : 

“ Yes, but — Oh, Laurence, I begin to fear it 
will come only through some awful sorrow.” 

For a moment the bright young face had 
clouded ; then he looked up with a smile : 

“Well, God won’t make it any harder for us 
than he can help. And, whatever way the bless- 
ing comes, it will be worth all it costs.” 


ANSWERED. 


293 


Even through all the grief that must needs have 
its way now, she felt that his words were true : the 
blessing that had come was worth all the bitter cost. 
Was it not the gift for which the Son of God had 
laid down his life, and had not counted even that 
price too high? 

There was a strange restfulness in the rolling 
away at last of the heavy burden of wrong — a 
strange sweetness in the working and planning 
along new lines. The money which, in the words 
of old Mrs. Holland, “ belonged to others,” made 
many things possible, and it was in a search of oue 
of these others — her old friend Jeannette Grey — 
that Barbara had been that day. Jeannette had 
not been very strong in those old days when she 
had stitched so indefatigably, and a late letter from 
Aunt Cass had casually mentioned the engaging 
of a new seamstress because “ Jeannette seemed to 
have lost the ability to perform a really good 
day’s work — from ill-health or some reason.” 
The gentle, quiet girl, poor and alone, who out 
of her own toilsome life could strive to help one 
whom the world called more fortunate, had been 
to Barbara always a pleasant memory. It was a 
feeling that of late had grown to gratitude as she 
understood more clearly what Jeannette had tried 


294 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


to show her, and realized that through the sewing- 
girl had came her first awakening. What if that 
thin, needle-pricked hand — Barbara could see it 
yet — had borne less steadily the light entrusted 
to its keeping? How many blessings Barbara 
could trace, humanly speaking, back to Jeannette’s 
faithfulness ! — her best hopes for herself and all 
whom she loved. 

So it was natural that Aunt Cass’s letter should 
awaken thought that speedily ran into purpose. 
If Jeannette’s health had failed — how could it 
be otherwise with her wearisome, unsheltered life? 
— why should not Barbara offer a place and light, 
congenial employment in her own home? But 
first there must be a restful summer in the dear 
old Barracks. How the pure air and the country 
quiet would refresh Jeannette ! and how perfectly 
she and Petra Wilder would understand each 
other! On this erraud Barbara had gone, but 
she did not know just where to find the one 
she sought, and so went first to Aunt Cass. 

“Yes, I can find her for you,” said the latter 
lady, beaming graciously over the tempting lunch 
she had insisted upon ordering, and which Barbara 
could not help contrasting with the well-remem- 
bered table of her girlhood. “She has moved, of 


ANSWERED. 


295 


course — seamstresses and laundresses are for ever 
moving — still, I know about where to look for her. 
But you do not want her, my dear. I can get you 
a woman who is far more efficient — one who can 
accomplish more, and who really is quite stylish in 
her effects. I thought I had written you about 
finding one who satisfied me better.” 

“ But I’m not looking for a dressmaker, stylish 
or otherwise. I want only Jeannette,” insisted 
Barbara, trying briefly to explain. 

It was not easy to make Aunt Cass comprehend 
such a wish ; its spirit and origin were unintelli- 
gible to her. But one thing which she did clearly 
understand was that her niece was Mrs. Holland, 
who was able to indulge any fancy, however ex- 
pensive. That delightful fact she never forgot. 

tc What a nonsensical, romantic girl you always 
were, Barbara ! And I really do not see that you 
have improved in the least,” she laughed compla- 
cently. “ The office of permanent seamstress will 
certainly be a sinecure in your small family, where 
you do so little remodeling, and where mending is, 
I presume, one of the lost arts. I could keep such 
a person tolerably busy, but for you — However, 
if you wish to carry out your whim I can easily 
find Jeannette.” 


296 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


The proposal was no whim to Jeannette, nothing 
inexplicable, though her pale cheeks flushed with 
pleasure ; but then she knew, as Aunt Cass did not, 
the other side of the story — the prayers to which 
this welcome message was the answer. 

“ I knew it would come in some way, but I did 
not think of you as the one who would bring it,” 
Jeannette said, her eyes full of grateful tears as they 
smiled into Barbara’s. “God has so many mes- 
sengers ! I’m glad you were the one sent to 
me.” 

The journey had seemed tiresome to Barbara 
that warm morning, but dust and heat were for- 
gotten as she sat in the little upper room which, 
with all its scrupulous neatness, was so painfully 
plain and bare. Jeannette’s strength had been 
failing all the spring. She could not goad herself 
to her usual efforts, and so had lost work that 
meant a great deal to her. The physician w T hom 
at last she had reluctantly consulted informed her 
that she had been overworking and too closely 
confined within doors ; she simply needed rest and 
change; which very simple remedies were entirely 
beyond her reach. That was the story as she 
briefly told it. Barbara’s plan brought fresh life 
and hope, and its details were easily arranged. 


ANSWERED. 


297 


There can be no cure for sorrow like that of 
helping to lighten another’s sorrow, and this balm 
every one of the Holland household was proving 
in these days. The young wife was sure of ready 
sympathy in the success of her errand when she 
met her mother-in-law ; and as the two journeyed 
homeward together through the slowly-deepening 
twilight, they discussed many projects of helpful- 
ness that were yet to gladden countless lives. One 
of these had been of Laurence’s beginning. The 
day after the accident a boy had come to the 
stricken home bringing a box of flowers. He 
was a year or two younger than the quiet sleeper 
in the darkened parlor, but he represented so earn- 
estly that he was one of Laurence’s friends, and 
that “the other boys of the club” had sent him, 
that the old housekeeper had brought him to Bar- 
bara. 

“ Can’t these be put in his hand or be laid some- 
where near him ?” he pleaded, displaying his offer- 
ings. “ I’m sure he’d like it, for the boys of the 
club bought ’em — did it ourselves, without askin’ 
anybody. We wanted to do something for him ; 
we belonged to his club, you see. We — we all 
liked him.” 

The bgyish voice broke there, the honest gray 


298 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


eyes filled, and Barbara, to whom all boyhood had 
grown suddenly dear for the lost one’s sake, took 
the proffered box and held close in her own the 
brown hand of the donor. 

“ Tell me about the club,” she said. “ What 
was it. 

“It was one he started — out on the coasting- 
ground, you know : none of the rest of us would 
have thought of it. There’s been so much snow 
this winter, and every day a lot of us would be out 
there with our sleds. Every day, too, there’d be 
a lot of fellows watching us — some of ’em only 
little youngsters, and too poor to have any sleds. 
We didn’t pay much attention, only to call to ’em 
to get out of the way, till Laurence began to notice 
how they stood there, and he’d give first one and 
then another a ride. ‘ See here, boys,’ he says one 
day, ‘ don’t let’s gobble up all the good times 
because we can ; let’s give the other fellows a 
chance.’ Well, one after another, we began to do 
as he did, eight or ten of us, till it was an under- 
stood thing on that hill, and we called ourselves 
the ‘ Lend-a-Turn Club.’ The youngsters at the 
corners knew about it too, and they’d call out, 
‘ You’re a club fellow? Gimme a ride!’ That’s 
all. Only if Laurie had always been particular 


ANSWERED. 


299 


to keep his own turn, he wouldn’t have been hurt 
yesterday. He’d given somebody else two rides, 
and that’s how he happened to be going down 
then. We boys talked about it out on the hill 
this morning, and we wanted to do something, so 
we bought the flowers. Nobody wanted to bring 
’em here, though, but I didn’t see how it could 
be any harm.” 

“No, no! I’m glad you came,” Barbara an- 
swered so earnestly that all misgiving was silenced. 
“ Only the roses you have brought shall be in his 
hand. Come and we will place them there.” 

The room into which he was led was such as the 
young caller had never seen before, but he did not 
notice it : his eyes sought only the still face of the 
one who was lying there. He watched silently 
until the precious blossoms had been disposed to 
his satisfaction. Then impulsively, and as if he 
had for the moment forgotten the lady’s presence, 
he bent over his dead comrade and whispered, 

“Good-bye, Laurie! We’ll always give the 
other fellows a chance — always after this.” 

He turned and hurried away then, but Barbara’s 
heart, touched and strangely comforted by the un- 
expected visit, echoed his promise. A chance for 
the other boys therefore held a large place in all 


300 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS . 


the plans for the future, and Barbara understood 
when Mrs. Holland suddenly remarked, after a 
brief silence, 

“And while she is there — I mean your friend 
Jeannette — while she is at the Barracks, she may 
be able to help us with that night-school for the 
mill-boys.” 

There had been many changes made — not noisy 
or sensational, such as attract the world’s attention, 
but none the less radical because of that — and 
weeks of steady, often difficult or perplexing, but 
determined work ; then, when the spring had deep- 
ened into summer, Clinton Holland sought Petra 
one day. The mill at the village had known no 
visit from him that year, nor had he written beyond 
brief business letters in reply to Mr. Dorsey. 
Something of what he was doing his friends knew, 
and surmised more, because of a communication 
from Colonel Holland to the Rev. John Kent in- 
forming him that a certain sum — a very handsome 
one, it seemed to the unworldly village pastor — had 
been placed to his credit as the payment, principal 
and interest, of what was rightfully his. That was 
one of the old tangles which it had been hard to 
straighten and set right after this lapse of time, and 
to do it in such fashion that no taint of “ the atf-* 


ANSWERED. 


301 


cursed thing,” as John Kent had more than once 
called the liquor traffic in his cousin’s hearing, 
should cling to it. It was proof of Bradley Hol- 
land’s intense earnestness and sincerity that he had 
so patiently sought to unravel this web, and his 
exact and scrupulous statement of how it had been 
done showed his desire fully to satisfy his cousin’s 
conscience as well as his own. The gain to himself 
John Kent almost lost sight of in his gladness at 
the marvelous change that had been wrought in the 
man, and yet the former meant power to carry out 
many cherished plans. He and his mother rejoiced 
together over that letter ; and when he carried it to 
Kitty, she listened with shining eyes. 

“ Dear Laurence ! The sorrow that came through 
his death has surely been, as you suggested it might 
be, the opening of a door,” she said. 

But the whole story of what had been done and 
purposed Clinton Holland told to Petra when he 
came. He told her more, going back that summer 
day, over life-pages that no one else had known — 
of how the belief he did not want to entertain had 
pressed upon him day by day and would not be 
shaken off; of how his mother’s prayers had grown 
to a veritable presence that haunted him like an 
angel with a drawn sword, barring his way; of 


302 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


how in late years the accumulating wealth had 
palled upon him and he had found little pleasure 
in anything it could bring. He had acquired the 
reputation of being cynical and unsocial, but he 
had held to his solitary life because he shrank from 
the thought of attempting to build a home upon 
such a foundation. He remembered how his mother 
had suffered. Whatever he had thought of it in 
earlier life, he comprehended her feelings more 
clearly now, and it seemed to him that any pure, 
noble woman must in great measure share it. He 
would burden no other life by linking it with 
his ; he would bring no one else under this heavy 
shadow. 

“ And even now, Petra, you see what it is I have 
asked you to share — the semblance of wealth with- 
out its reality ? For, though we have eliminated 
from our business everything that has to do with 
this traffic in any form, yet that cannot cancel the 
past. Principal and interest is a heavy computa- 
tion when it comes to such a matter as this, but we 
have decided, Bradley and I, that it must be un- 
dertaken, nevertheless. What originally came from 
the poor, the weak, the helpless, that, with all its 
accumulations, must go back to them. We hold a 
fortune, indeed, but we hold it in trust for others.” 


ANSWERED. 


303 


“ Which, after all, is only saying that you hold 
it as every Christian ought to hold whatever wealth 
he has,”' said Petra. 

Mr. Holland shook his head : 

“ If it were only that, the building of asylums, 
of schools, of mills would be a delight, the joy of 
blessing humanity. But we cannot be benefactors, 
though we have often to wear that title undeserved. 
We are debtors.” 

“ So said Paul,” answered Petra, smiling at the 
familiar words, “ and he counted himself, with all 
that he could give and do, ‘ not meet to be called 
an apostle ’ because he had ‘ persecuted the Church 
of God and wasted it.’ That God can overrule 
even our sins and bring good out of our evil does 
not lessen our guilt, I know, but it is a comfort to 
feel that he does so overrule. I doubt if the great 
apostle would ever have been quite what he was — 
such a power for good — had it not been for that 
past which made him always feel himself to be a 
‘debtor.’” 

“ Then you do not fear this task that we have 
undertaken — do not fear, as I have sometimes 
been almost ready to fancy, that a curse rests 
upon this gold, and that it can never bring good 
either to ourselves or to others?” 


304 


THE HAND WITH THE KEYS. 


“That is morbid,” Petra’s clear voice answered, 
decidedly. “‘The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth 
from all sin.’ Gifts and offerings cannot atone, 
indeed, but there is no need that they should ; he 
has done that once for all. And if a soul that 
has consciously and willfully sinned may be puri- 
fied and made fit for his service, will he ban the 
gold that is neither good nor evil except as it is 
used? Do not believe it.” 

Petra and Clinton had been talking under the 
old apple tree, the gnarled and twisted tree that 
still threw its shadows over the grass. As they 
walked slowly toward the house Kitty’s voice, 
reading to grandpa from one of the old books 
that he loved, floated out to them through the 
open window. Petra looked up with a quick 
smile, and the grave face above hers brightened 
as they caught the words : 

“Guided by hands they did not see, 

By voices called to them unknown, 

Strange opening doors of circumstance, 

Small happenings that were never chance, 

God’s daily, hourly providence, 

Led in his way, and not their own.” 












































































